A Wish Your Heart Makes
by jdmusiclover
Summary: A new villain has invaded the Enchanted Forest-the wicked witch of the west, but she is nothing but the lackey of a far greater evil. When Captain Hook hears of an ancient prophecy that details the defeat of the new villain, he knows the prophecy refers to him and Emma. Can he find Emma? Can he restore her memories and make her fall in love with him before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

_New York, present day_

"Look, I know this seems crazy, but you have to listen to me. You have to remem…" The door slammed in Hook's face cutting off his sentence. For a moment he dropped his head in defeat. He shouldn't have hoped it would be this easy. He really shouldn't have. Her father, Charming, had warned him that true love's kiss wouldn't work if Emma didn't remember him. But he had hoped…he'd hoped that something of their…_connection_…would have remained, even if her memories had fled.

Hook adjusted the prosthetic hand he had decided to wear on his search for Emma. He grimaced as he slowly walked down the hallway toward the stairs. He had become so accustomed to his hook that a hand felt foreign and awkward. Pushing the building door open, he walked out into the chilly late-fall wind.

Hook sighed in frustration. It wasn't just his longing for the lass that brought him here. Her parents, and indeed all in the Enchanted Forest, were in grave danger. If he couldn't find a way to help Emma regain her memories, all was lost. It was a difficult and precarious position he found himself in.

Closing his eyes, he let his mind dwell on the moment the apartment door opened and _she _was standing there. Ah, but he had missed her! The year since their parting had been interminable. In some ways, it was even worse than when he'd lost Milah. At least with Milah he was left with his vengeance. It was cold comfort, perhaps, but at least there had been _something_ he could do to staunch the bleeding her death had caused within his heart. But loosing Emma…there was no one to punish for her loss. The boy who had caused it was dead, beyond vengeance.

And in all honesty, Hook didn't know if he even had the heart to pursue vengeance anymore. He had found that revenge rung hollow. It hadn't brought Milah back, it hadn't assuaged the pain, even the satisfaction he felt when he thought he had finally killed the Crocodile had worn off in mere moments. All he'd been left with was emptiness.

But this time was different. He had found his Emma. Against all odds, he had travelled across realms, searched city after city and town after town, and had finally found her! Joy bubbled up from the core of his being and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. He would succeed; he knew it! He had known at their last parting that he and Emma Swan were made and meant to be together. He had _known_ that she would have picked him had they had more time to spend together.

Yes, he had hoped she would recognize him. Hoped they could pick up where they had left off a year before, but that wasn't to be. So be it. He was a patient man, a man who loved a challenge. It would be a sacrifice to move slowly with the lass, but he was no stranger to sacrifice, particularly when it was required in the pursuit of love.

_Sacrifice_. The word brought to mind a scene long past. Hook reached for the chain around his neck. He pushed aside the skull medallion, the reminder of his pirate past, and grabbed ahold of the cross. He closed his eyes and let his mind travel back to that day many centuries before when he had received it…

_Enchanted Forest, long long ago_

Eight-year-old Killian Jones skipped along the docks beside his father and his twelve-year old brother, Liam. That morning, his father had surprised the boys by returning home a week earlier than expected. A merchant on the high seas, his Da was away more than he was home. Killian and Liam spent the majority of their days in the care of an elderly neighbor.

It hadn't always been like this. They had been such a happy family once. Da had done most of his selling right there along the docks. His trips over seas had been few and far between. Then three years before, Killian's mother had died of a quick and violent fever, and everything had changed. It was as though Da couldn't stand the sight of home or his sons anymore.

Killian was lonely. He and Liam were nearly inseparable, but it wasn't the same as having loving parents around day after day.

But today, things were different. Da was different. He had come home so happy.

"Our luck has changed me lads!" he had said clapping his hands gleefully. "Our ship's finally come in. Come, me boys. I've something to show ye."

They walked the docks quickly. Da was so full of excitement he could barely contain himself. At last the three stopped before a magnificent brig docked off by herself. _The Golden Swan_ was emblazoned upon her in bright golden letters.

"She's a beauty, is she not, my laddies?" Da had said with glee.

"Aye, Da," Liam had answered looking up at his father with a quizzical look in his eye, "but what has she to do with us?"

"What has she to do with us?" Da asked and laughed long and hard. Clapping his hands together, he'd swept both boys in his glance. "Why this very day I've bought her! She's ours."

Killian's eyes grew round with wonder. His father had _purchased_ this fine vessel? It was far grander than any ship the young lad had ever seen.

"What will we do with it, Da?" Killian asked.

"What do you think, me lad?" his father had asked with a smile. "This brig has a hold twice as large as the last I captained. Why, I can sell more than I ever dreamed. I will no longer be bound by the Enchanted Forest. I will sail through all the realms!"

Killian dropped his head before his father could see the tears in his eyes. Travelling the realms? When would he ever see his father if he started travelling to other realms? Da put a gentle finger under Killian's chin and raised it up.

"Fret not, lad," Da said gently. "I know it has been hard on ye and yer brother these last years. I've not liked our separation any more than ye, but it wasn't to be helped. I've worked hard to give us the kind of life we deserve."

"Aye, Da," Killian said in a small voice.

"But it is over now," Da continued. "When I talked of travelling the realms, I meant not to go alone. Nay lads! I wish to take you as well! Think of the grand adventures we shall have, travelling the realms."

"Truly, Da?" Liam and Killian said together. Killian jumped up and down in his excitement. He loved the sea. Da said it was in his blood. To travel the sea and to never be parted from his Da? It sounded like heaven itself!

"What say we stay in the captain's quarters tonight, lads?" Da asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Aye, Da!" Killian shouted.

Several hours later, Killian lay wide awake in his bunk looking up at his father. Liam had fallen asleep long ago, his brother always had been able to fall asleep at the drop of the hat, but Killian was wide awake. The wonder of the new life before him left him breathless with excitement.

"One more story, Da," Killian pleaded, his blue eyes peering up into his father's green ones, "please!"

Da tussled his dark hair and laughed. "Ye're insatiable my young lad, but aye, I see no harm in one more story."

Killian sat up and clapped his hands in delight.

"Hush now, lad," Da said with a smile, "ye don't want to wake yer brother up, now do ye? He's a bear when he doesn't get his sleep."

Killian laughed. Liam did growl most fiercely when awoken before ready. And unfortunately his bite was just as bad as his bark.

"Now, I have one gift for ye before we get to our story," Da said reaching into the neckband of his shirt. The man pulled a silver chain over his head. A silver cross hung from it.

"This has been my talisman all these years," Da said fondly, "I wear it to remind me that nothing good, nothing worthy comes without sacrifice. May it now be yers. Wear yon cross proudly, and know it will never lead you astray."

"Thanks, Da," Killian said reaching for the cross. He slipped the chain over his head and then turned expectantly back to his father. "What about the story?" he asked.

Da laughed and turned toward the trunk that stood open in the corner. He rummaged around for a moment and then grasped a brightly colored hard-back book.

"What is this?" Da asked in puzzlement, "I don't remember having this book."

"What is it?" Killian asked eagerly jumping up and running to is father.

"'Tis called _The Magic of Camelot_," Da answered, showing Killian the cover. A knight in full armor and a golden crown sat on a splendid white charger. His arm was raised, pointing his magnificent broadsword to the sky. Twelve other knights stood at the ready in the background.

"Once upon a time," Da began, "there lived a boy named Arthur."

_New York, present day_

Emma closed her apartment door and turned back toward the breakfast table. What had that been all about?

"Who was that?" Henry asked as he speared a bite of his pancake.

Emma glanced back at the door quizzically. "No idea," she said, "Somebody must have left the door open downstairs."

"Hm," Henry grunted starting in on his hot chocolate.

Emma ate her breakfast in silence, her mind on the man who had come to her door. Who was he? How had he known her name? What did he mean her family was in trouble? Most of all, why did she have the feeling she should know him? It was like the feeling you get when you wake in the morning and _almost_ remember the dream you just had.

The pirate was handsome, there was no denying that. _Pirate_? Why had she thought of him as a pirate? And there was something different about his left hand. What was it? How would she even know there was something different about his hand?

This was insane! Why was she even wasting thought on him? She'd dealt with her fair share of creeps, liars and crazy people. And yet…Emma instinctively knew the man wasn't a creep. Her superpower assured her he was telling the absolute truth. As for being crazy…well, that didn't ring true either.

And when he'd kissed her…there had been a connection, a sudden pulse of electricity in the air. She'd closed her eyes for a fraction of a second and let herself revel in his touch. Then common sense had returned. What was she doing allowing an absolute stranger to kiss her?

_Everlasting love_. The phrase had been rattling around in her head ever since she had opened the door to the handsome stranger. Emma reached up and fingered the circle necklace she had worn every day for years. Her mind went back to the night she had received it…

_Boston, 25 years ago_

Six-year-old Emma Swan stomped her booted foot angrily. "You did that on purpose, Tommy Smith!"

Her eight-year-old foster brother scuffed his toe in the snow and frowned back at her. "Did not! It's your own fault it got ruined."

Emma felt the anger growing. She had been so proud of that snow angel. That afternoon, her foster father taught her how to make the shapes in the snow, and that was the first one she had done that really looked like an angel. Then Tommy and his friend Brian had come by and started a snowball fight, and Tommy had trampled right over her beautiful angel! It wasn't fair!

"It's not my fault and you know it," Emma shouted, her mittened hands coming to rest against her hips. "Dad told you not to bother my angel or my snowman, but you came over here anyway."

Tommy's face got even stormier. "What does it matter?" Tommy taunted. "You're just a foster kid anyway."

Emma's face fell, and she felt the tears fill her eyes. She whirled and ran back into the Smith's large, old-fashioned farmhouse. She pelted up the stairs, not even bothering to respond when Mrs. Smith offered her a mug of hot cocoa to warm her up. She catapulted herself into her bedroom, shut the door, and fell face first onto her frilly pink bed. Then the tears started.

It had been such a perfect day at the beginning. It was a few weeks before Christmas, and the night before they had gotten the first big snow storm of the season. It wasn't that powdery stuff either; it was perfect snowman snow. Her foster father had come down to breakfast that morning as excited about the snow as either of the children.

"Tommy, Emma," he said, "we probably got a foot overnight! What do you say we go out and play after breakfast?"

Emma had been so excited. A day spent with the foster father she adored and the foster brother who was really more of a best friend than anything else? It would be awesome! And so, as soon as Emma had finished her breakfast and put her dish in the dishwasher, she'd run to the hall closet and dug out her coat and hat and gloves.

Emma had been placed with the Smiths not long after her third birthday, and they were the only family she ever remembered. They treated her with love and affection, just the way they treated their own biological son. One day they would adopt her and officially make her part of their family; Emma just knew they would! She couldn't wait for the day she could officially become a Smith.

Emma, her foster dad and Tommy had frolicked and laughed throughout most of the morning. They had built the biggest snowman Emma had ever seen. Her dad was so strong! He had picked up those huge balls of snow they used to make the snowman's torso and head like they weighed no more than a cotton ball. Emma knew there was nothing her dad couldn't do.

After the snowman, they had built a snow fort, at Tommy's request, and then her foster dad had taught her about snow angels. He had dropped to the snow right beside Emma and waved his arms and legs back and forth until he had made what looked like an angel's wings and dress. Emma was in awe. Look how much beauty could come from snow? Emma was captivated by beauty and loved to revel in the wonder of the winter season.

Emma buried her head in her hands and wept. Tommy's thoughtless words wounded her deeply. She looked up to him, loved him like a brother, and thought he was the coolest boy in the world. And he thought of her as just a foster kid?

Emma started at the knock on her door. "Can I come in, honey?" her foster father called to her.

Emma swiped her hands across her damp cheeks trying to get rid of the evidence of her tears. "Ok," she called back.

Her foster father was a big man, and he looked awkward ducking into her room and sitting on her tiny frilly bed, but his sympathetic look was beautiful to behold for a hurting little girl. When he opened his arms, she climbed into his lap and buried her face in his chest.

"Tommy told me what he said to you," her dad said, patting her softly on the back. "You know he has a temper and he sometimes says things he doesn't mean."

"Yeah," Emma said non-committally. "I guess so."

"Emma, look at me," her dad said placing a gentle finger under her chin and tipping it up. "You know your mother and I love you…every bit as much as if you were our own flesh and blood. It doesn't matter that you come from the foster system. We love you and we want you."

Her father gently set her back on the bed and got to his feet. He rummaged around in his pocket for a moment and then pulled out a small box.

"I meant to give you this for Christmas," her father said handing her the box. Emma opened the package to reveal a silver necklace with a small, circle pendant.

"Thanks, Dad," Emma said, running her small fingers over the jewelry. "It's pretty."

Her foster dad awkwardly took the necklace out of its box and placed it around her neck. "It's meant to be far more than pretty," he said. "You see this circle? It has no beginning and no end. It is like our love for you, everlasting. It will never come to an end. Let this necklace be your talisman. Believe in everlasting love, and you will never go wrong."

Emma threw herself into her foster father's arms and gave him an exuberant childish hug. She loved him so much!

"What do you say we have a story before its time for bed?" her dad asked.

"Yeah!" Emma answered enthusiastically.

The man and little girl walked hand in hand into the den where her foster father kept shelf after shelf of books. Emma seated herself in her favorite comfortable chair and watched Mr. Smith look through his collection of children's stories.

"Hm," he murmured as his hand closed over a book, "I don't remember this one. I wonder how long we've had it?"

He held up the brightly colored book. A knight in full armor and a golden crown sat on a splendid white charger. His arm was raised, pointing his magnificent broadsword to the sky. Twelve other knights stood at the ready in the background.

"It's called _The Magic of Camelot_," Dad muttered.

"Can we read it?" Emma asked eagerly. She was fascinated with the beautiful pictures.

"I don't see why not," her foster dad answered. He sat in his chair, lifted Emma onto his lap, and opened the cover.

"Once upon a time," her dad began, "there lived a boy named Arthur."

_Notes:__ Merry Christmas everyone! Consider the start of my new story my Christmas gift to you…unless, of course you don't like the way I write, in which case I apologize for inflicting my story on you on Christmas day. _

_-Prepare yourself for a LONG story. I will be essentially telling three stories in one: a long, long ago story about the origins of the big villain of the story (who will be introduced in the next chapter); a story that takes place one year ago and details what happened to everyone who was transported back to the Enchanted Forest when Regina destroyed her original curse; and a present day story where Hook tries to bring back Emma's memories…and convince her to reciprocate his feelings for her. I plan to try to follow Once Upon a Time's general format, where the story kind of goes back and forth between the different story lines. Eventually, all three stories will converge, and all will come to a dramatic conclusion….if I'm successful._

_-Those of you who have read either of my previous fan fictions (The Strongest Magic and A Christmas Miracle) have probably determined that I am a romantic at heart…and a big fan of Captain Swan. The bulk of the romance will be about them, but there will be a smattering of the newly blossoming romance between Regina and Robin Hood (whatever people are calling that "ship"), and there will also be a continuation of another popular Once Upon a Time couple…but I can't say more now, because it might be too much of a spoiler._

_-So I hope this first chapter has left you with several new questions, and whetted your appetite for more. What is the significance of the cross Hook wears and the circle Emma wears? How was it that both Hook's father and Emma's foster father just happened to find the exact same book…after all, they were in totally different realms and lived hundreds of years apart. Does some part of Emma actually remember Hook? Can he find a way to unlock those memories of him? Keep reading to find the answers!_

_-Coming up next: We meet my story's big bad; and Hook tries to talk to Emma at Henry's bus stop…with interesting results._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Camelot, long long ago_

Eighteen-year-old Morgana Le Fay was destined for greatness. She had known that from the time she was old enough to know what it meant to be great. Though she was a lowly commoner, an orphan and the sole support of her sixteen-year-old brother, Mordred, Morgana had instinctively known that one day she would be queen.

"Quit yer confounded dreaming girl," the healer ground out, "and go fetch some herbs from yon garden."

Morgana shot the old, ugly hag of a woman a filthy look, gathered her skirt in one hand, and majestically swept from the small cottage. Dreaming, was it? All her life she'd been accused of being a dreamer. She vividly remembered the village boy who had named her "Le Fay."

"Morgana has her head in the clouds again," he had taunted, "She thinks she's a fairy. Thinks she can do magic. Morgana Le Fay!"

Perhaps she was a dreamer, but her head was anywhere but in the clouds. She had no intention of simply dreaming. She was more than willing to do whatever it took to make her dreams a reality. If that meant she had to steal, torture, kill, or sell her soul to the devil himself, she would do it!

Morgana knelt at the edge of the garden, swept back her magnificent jet black hair and began sorting through the herbs, looking for those at their peak of ripeness. Her gray skirt would be covered in grass stains again at the knees, but it couldn't be helped. It wasn't as though she was trying to impress anyone anyway.

How was she to achieve her plans? The thought of marrying into a fortune had its merits. She was uncommonly beautiful, there was no use denying that. With her long black hair that softly curled at the ends, her soft blue eyes, and her flawless peaches-and-cream complexion, she received more than her fair share of admiring…or lecherous glances. But none of the young men of means were interested in marrying a dirt-poor girl with no prospects, no family, no dowry. She had thought she had snared one amorous young swain a couple of years back. The man had spoken so sweetly, declared his undying love. But as it turned out, he had no intention of pursuing marriage. He was interested in nothing more than a quick romp in the hay. When it became clear where his intentions lay, Morgana had mixed him up a goblet of spiced wine mixed with a particularly vicious poisoned herb. She was sure he wouldn't soon forget the clawing, blinding pain in his gut over the next week or so.

Morgana's mind spun off once again into a haze of beauty and elegance and power. She was looking forward to the power most of all. When she became queen, she would show all the naysayers, all those who mocked her, all the royals and nobles who walked past her with their noses in the air. She stood still for a moment imagining in vivid detail all the ways she would get her revenge on her enemies.

"Girl," the healer called to her from the cabin door, "get thee back in here this moment. You know full well we haven't time to lollygag. With the sickness in the village, we've more work than we can handle."

Morgana folded up her white apron around the herbs she had picked and began walking back to the healer's cabin. When both of her parents had died of the fever three years past, Morgana had been left to care for herself and Mordred. She had apprenticed with the healer to make ends meet. Though she quickly found she had a talent for healing, she hated this job. It was tedious dealing with complaint after complaint, runny nose after toothache after headache.

But the job had its advantages. She had learned much about herbs and medicines and the intricacies of human physiognomy. She knew how to heal…but it also insured she knew how to injure. She had patiently studied, looking for the best and most effective ways to inflict pain. One day, when she had achieved the fame and success and power she so richly deserved, she would hunt down each and every one of the people who had tried to clip her wings. And when she found them, she would wring every last drop of agony out of them before ultimately ending their worthless lives.

Morgana dropped a handful of fragrant herbs into a small bowl and began grinding them with a pestle. She added a few drops of the potion the healer had brewed the night before, and then added another handful of herbs. She didn't envy the poor soul who would have to injest this tonic tonight. She knew full well it tasted as noxious as death itself.

"Morgana! Morgana!" her brother shouted as he burst through the door into the healer's one-room cabin. "You'll never guess what just happened!"

Morgana smiled tenderly at the young man who still had his fair share of boyish enthusiasm. "I wouldn't even try, my lad. What has you so worked up."

"The sword!" Mordred answered, breathless after his long run. "Excalibur has been pulled from the stone! Camelot has a new king!"

Morgana caught her breath. Excalibur had been retrieved? She hadn't thought it was possible; she'd thought it was nothing more than a myth that it would one day be drawn by the rightful king of Camelot.

"Well," she asked excitedly, "who is this new king? One of the 'great nobles,' no doubt." Morgana couldn't quite keep the scorn from her voice.

"Nay!" Mordred said, "'Tis no noble. 'Tis none other than Arthur!"

"What?" Morgana asked in surprise. "Arthur from our village? The squire of Sir Ector? The scrawny boy that brutish Sir Kay likes to torment?"

"Aye," Mordred said, "the very one."

Well this was a development! Victory bubbled up inside of Morgana. If someone as weak, as insignificant, as uninspired as Arthur could become king, there was no limit to the greatness she would one day achieve!

_New York, present day_

The alarm clock blared, and Emma reached blindly over to turn it off. Sitting up she stretched and opened her mouth in an enormous yawn. Climbing from the bed, she stepped out into her slippers and then threw on her fluffy white bath robe.

Emma shuffled into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. She was going to need coffee and lots of it to wake up this morning. It hadn't been a restful night. Not at all. She had had dream after dream, most little more than a quick succession of images. But one thing was consistent throughout every dream. They all featured the stranger who had shown up at her door yesterday morning.

Why was she _still_ thinking about him? Why was she still plagued by the feeling that she should know him, that she should remember him?

As Emma opened the cabinet and retrieved two cereal bowls, the memory of her last dream, the one she had just before the alarm went off, came vividly to mind. She and the man in black were climbing some sort of vine. _A beanstalk_. A beanstalk? Where the hell had _that_ thought come from?

Anyway, she and the man were on some sort of a mission. They had to find…something, but first they had to get past a giant. _A giant?_ Emma shook her head in exasperation. What had she eaten before bed last night? She needed to lay off the snacks if they were going to result in dreams this messed up!

But it wasn't a bad dream…not really. There was an undeniable attraction between her and the man. She hadn't _quite_ trusted him, but there was something about him that made her think he would do his best to help her retrieve the…whatever it was they were looking for.

This was ridiculous! She'd spent, what? Two minutes, tops with the man in her doorway? Explosive kiss or no explosive kiss that wasn't nearly enough time to make her obsess about him the way she was! For heaven's sake, she'd likely never even see him again. When she and Henry had left the apartment early yesterday afternoon, the man was gone. Not a trace of him was left.

"Morning, Mom," Henry called as he ambled into the kitchen and sat in his favorite chair at the table.

"Hi, kid," she answered passing him a bowl of his favorite cereal and a glass of orange juice. "You got a busy day today, don't you?"

"Yeah," Henry answered around a bite of cereal, "I've got three tests during school, and then it's tryouts for the football team."

Emma heard the nerves in her son's voice. "Don't worry, buddy," she said tussling his already messy hair. "I know how much you've studied and practiced. I'm sure you'll do fine on everything."

"I hope so," Henry answered.

"You sleep well?" Emma asked taking a sip of her scalding coffee.

"Kind of," Henry answered with a look of confusion. "I kept having this weird dream, though."

"Really?" Emma answered, reaching for a piece of toast. "What was it about?"

"You know that guy that came to our apartment yesterday morning?"

Emma chocked on the sip of orange juice she'd just taken. She coughed for a moment, took another swig of juice and then looked over at Henry. "Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, he was in my dream," Henry said. "We were in this kind of jungle, and someone had kidnapped me. You and that guy and all these other people were trying to get me back."

"Hmm," Emma answered trying to keep the surprise from her voice. That sounded vaguely similar to one of the dreams she'd had last night.

"What do you think it means?" Henry asked, looking gravely over at her.

"Means?" Emma asked. "No idea. Probably nothing. Dreams are weird. You better hurry up, kid. You don't want to be late for the bus."

Henry shoveled the last couple bites of cereal into his mouth, pushed away from the table and ran back to his room. Emma cleared the table and put the cereal bowls in the dishwasher. What was the deal with that man? He hadn't only invaded her dreams he'd invaded Henry's as well. It just didn't make sense!

Half an hour later, Emma pushed the building door open and walked the block with Henry to his bus stop.

"What are your plans today, Mom?" Henry asked as he walked along.

"Don't know," she answered with a shrug. "I suppose I ought to start looking for another job."

The accounting firm where she had worked for the past ten years had fallen on tough times. Just the week before, her boss had called her into his office, apologized profusely, and laid her off. Emma should be upset, she knew she should. New York was an expensive place to live, and she needed a good job to support her and Henry. But the fact was…she was almost relieved. Accounting was such boring work. Emma always thought she would have a more…exciting career. She'd thought about being a bounty hunter, or a law enforcement officer.

But then she'd had Henry. What she would have done had it been just her, she didn't know. But with a son depending on her, Emma had to do the responsible thing and get a stable job…and one where Henry wouldn't have to worry about whether his mom would come home at the end of the day.

They turned the corner and Emma gasped. _He _was there!

Hook paced nervously along the sidewalk. He had determined this was where Henry's bus would pick him up for school, and he had decided this is where he would make his next attempt with the lass.

He saw the two of them turn the corner and head straight for him. Ah, but the lass was beautiful with her silky blond hair and flashing eyes! Eyes that were shooting a decidedly unfriendly glare in his direction. So clearly the lass still didn't remember him. He sighed and began walking toward her. This was going to be far more difficult than he had anticipated.

"Stop right there, buddy!" Emma growled pushing her lad behind her and holding up her other hand as though to ward him off.

Hook stopped abruptly and put his hands up in surrender. "Ye've nothing to fear from me, Emma. I would never harm either you or Henry."

The lad tried to peer at him from behind his mother's back, but Emma roughly shoved him back.

"Yeah, that's just it," Emma said in a hard voice. "How do you know my name…and my son's name?"

"As I said before, love," Hook said in his silkiest, most soothing voice, "I am an old friend."

"The thing about 'old friends'," Emma drawled sarcastically, "is that people tend to remember them. Before yesterday, I'd never seen you before in my life."

Hook sighed. He had known she wouldn't remember him. He had known Regina's memory charm was strong enough that it would take him some time to break it. But it still hurt, that hard, distrusting look in the lass's eyes. It was every bit as strong as it had been when they'd met in the Enchanted Forest. It had amused him back then. He had appreciated her fire and her no-nonsense approach to life. He had enjoyed their verbal sparring matches more than he had enjoyed anything in years.

But then he had craved so much more. They had grown so close in Neverland. That kiss had been pure heaven! And then there was their farewell at the town line. The look the lass had given him, and her murmured "good", had been enough to keep him going through the past year that had seemed so never ending.

Hook took a step closer to her and laid his good hand onto her arm. "Please, love," he pleaded, "look into my eyes. I'm telling you the truth. You told me yourself that you're pretty good at telling when someone is lying to you."

She viciously ripped her arm from his hand and took a step back.

"Look buddy," she said angrily, "I don't want any trouble. Just leave me and my family alone, and stop stalking me!"

Hook stepped forward one time more. This time he moved both hands to her shoulders. "As I said before," he began earnestly, "it is because of your family I am here. Your parents are in grave danger. It is a danger only you and I together can stop."

She raised her foot and stomped as hard as she could on his instep. He instinctively let go of her and grabbed at his aching foot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lass flagging down an approaching car.

"Over here, officer!" she called. The police car pulled to the curb and turned on its lights.

"What seems to be the problem, ma'am," the grizzled officer asked, stepping out of his car.

"This man," Emma said pointing at him. "He's been stalking me. He showed up at my door yesterday, and now he's here at my son's bus stop!"

The uniformed man turned toward Hook. His look was far from friendly. "That true, buddy? You bothering the lady?"

"No!" Hook answered angrily. "She doesn't remember me, but I desperately need her help!"

"Um-hm," the officer said skeptically, "I'm sure you do. Put your hands behind your back. We're going to take a little trip downtown."

The man roughly turned Hook around and tried to grab his arms. Hook instinctively fought back. The man's partner was out of his squad car in the blink of an eye, and after a short scuffle, the two officers had successfully handcuffed him and were pushing him toward the backseat of their car.

Hook was desperate. He had to make one last attempt; it might be his last chance.

"I told you the absolute truth, lass!" he said, his voice raw with emotion. "There was not a day that went by that I didn't think of you!"

He didn't know what made him say it; it had just come out of his mouth with no thought on his part. He knew right away that his statement hit home. The lass gasped and her eyes widened. She trained her beautiful green eyes on him, and the look she gave him was one of shock.

Hook smiled as the officer roughly pushed him into the squad car. The Emma he knew and loved was still in there. Her memories may be locked tightly within, but he was a pirate. No door or lock had ever before kept him from collecting the prize that he sought!

_Notes__:_

_-A quick note about the geography of my imaginary world. The Enchanted Forest and Camelot are both parts of the larger entity, Fairy Tale Land, in the same way that France and Germany are both part of the larger entity, Europe. Camelot is west of the Enchanted Forest, and the two are separated by a substantial amount of no-man's-land._

_-I've always been fascinated with the middle ages, and it is the setting of most of my non-fan fiction writing. I thought Camelot would be a particularly interesting legend to explore. For those of you who know the Arthurian Legend, you will recognize some elements, but I also plan to take plenty of liberties._

_-So, Morgana Le Fay is my story's main villain. I'm a fan of villains BEING villains. I am hoping I can manage to make Morgana sufficiently nasty that everyone will be rooting for her defeat. As you can see, she has delusions of grandeur, and she has a particularly brutal streak. I wouldn't want to get on her bad side!_

_-Up next: We follow the Storybrooke residents just after Regina destroys the curse. They return to the Enchanted Forest and find it distinctly worse for wear. In the present, Emma is waiting for Hook when he is released from the police station. His last statement triggered something in her mind, and she decides she has to meet with the handsome stranger and try to get to the bottom of it._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Enchanted Forest, one year ago_

"We're back."

Hook heard the pain in Snow White's voice and reluctantly opened his eyes. He groaned. He had hoped, he had sincerely hoped that the queen's spell wouldn't work. He had hoped that somehow Pan's curse and Regina's destroying of the curse would cancel each other out. Instead, here he stood in the Enchanted Forest, and his Emma was presumably back in the land without magic.

Hook cursed softly under his breath. The pain started in his heart and spread throughout his entire body. It was so strong it was almost a physical pain. He heard soft weeping and looked around him. Bae supported Belle in his arms, and she looked nothing short of devastated. He felt for the lass. Despite his history with the Crocodile he'd never had anything against Belle.

He felt a stab of guilt for the pain he had caused her over the past year. What a scoundrel he had become! Nothing had mattered but the utter destruction of the Crocodile. The innocents who had been caught in the cross-fire hadn't even crossed his mind. Remorse ripped through him.

When had he stopped thinking of himself as Captain Hook and gone back to being Killian Jones in his mind? Ever since Liam died, it had just seemed easier to be the scoundrel, the dreaded pirate. What had his nobility ever gotten him? He'd lost every person he'd ever loved. Every time it began to feel like his life was turning around, like he could enjoy some happiness, someone he loved was ripped from him.

It started with his criminal of a father leaving him the very day after promising they would sail all the realms together. It continued on through the death of Liam, the death of Milah, and now the separation from Emma. He was alone again. Always alone.

Hook scanned the rest of their little group. Snow wept softly into Charming's shoulder, and the prince looked utterly devastated. Regina held Henry's red and blue striped scarf and slowly brought it to her face. Tinker Bell laid a comforting hand on the queen's shoulder. Everyone had someone with whom to commiserate. Everyone but him.

Hook felt the unmanly tears burning the back of his eyes. He must get away before he disgraced himself before all the group. He wandered a few yards from the group, and for the first time realized where they had landed. It was the edge of the destroyed village. The very place he had first laid eyes on his Emma.

He closed his eyes and thought back to that day a year or so ago. He'd had no idea what to expect when Cora had told him of the group from the Land Without Magic that would be coming to "rescue" him. For sure he hadn't expected the golden haired angel who had shown up. A fierce, avenging angel to be sure. Oh, but he'd loved her fire and passion from the very beginning!

Hook dug his thumb and pointer finger into his eyes trying to stop the tears, and then felt a touch on his arm. Turning around, he found himself face to face with her parents.

"You loved her," Snow said with a gentle smile on her face.

"Aye," he answered in a broken voice. "I loved her. I love her still. I'll no doubt love her until my dying day."

Snow reached up and enfolded him in a motherly embrace, and Charming laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Hook's heart swelled. Perhaps he wasn't as alone as he had believed. They understood; Emma's parents well understood. They were intimately acquainted with true love.

He loved Emma…maybe even more than he'd loved Milah. It felt almost like a betrayal of her memory to even think in that way, but it was the truth, none-the-less. Milah had been beautiful and exciting. She'd been a true pirate lass, always up for an adventure, sometimes reckless and impulsive. There'd never been a dull moment with her.

But the lass had never given all of herself to him. She had at times become sullen and withdrawn. Hook knew when these moods came over her that she was thinking of her own little lad, Baelfire, and feeling the incredible guilt that was never far from her mind. Never, for a moment did she cease to feel regret over abandoning him. Hook sensed that some part of her blamed him for the loss of her son, and he supposed she was justified in her blame. He had welcomed her onto his ship and into his heart with nary a thought of the lives that would be destroyed because of it.

With Emma, it was different. She was a true hero in all the senses of the word, and she was constantly inspiring him to be a better man. He had begun having visions of marriage and family. He had imagined the little brothers and sisters he and the lass could provide for Henry. He had imagined taking Henry under his wing and being a father to him. Now…he would likely never see the lass or her lad again. It was almost more than he could bear.

After some time, Snow White stepped back from him and turned toward her husband.

"David," she said, "We need to make some plans. We need to figure out what to do for the night."

"Right," Charming said, running a hand through his wheat-colored hair, "I suppose we could go back to the palace. It's no doubt fallen into disrepair, but at least it would be a roof over our heads for the night."

"What happened here?" Regina asked softly.

It was the third village they had come to that looked utterly decimated. Houses were burned; belongings littered the streets; crops in the field had blown over. It looked as though a tornado had ravaged the land.

"This feels, I don't know, different from a natural disaster," Charming said surveying the damage. "It feels menacing."

"Evil," Snow breathed.

Hook couldn't have agreed more. There was a heaviness in the air. It felt oppressive; like he would choke if he took a deep breath.

In the distance he saw a group of women coming to meet them.

"Blue!" Tink gasped running to meet the entourage. They had wondered where everyone else ended up. The dwarves, the fairies, Red and Granny had been unaccounted for. Here, apparently were the fairies.

At Tink's shout, Snow and Charming had broken into a run to meet the fairies; Hook was not far behind. He pulled up short when he saw the state Blue was in. Her dress was torn and dirty. She had a sizable bruise forming on one cheek and a nasty gash on the other. Her left arm was hanging limply at her side as though it was broken. None of the other fairies looked as though they had fared any better.

"What happened?" Snow asked with a gasp.

"We were transported back to the fairy haven," Blue began, "But we hadn't been there an hour before we were attacked."

"Attacked?" Baelfire asked, "Attacked by who?"

"I don't know," Blue said in a shaky voice, "Some kind of animals. They looked like…well, like monkeys, but they could fly."

"Flying monkeys?" Charming asked. "I've never heard such a thing."

"But they weren't just animals," Nova said from Blue's right. "They seemed intelligent, like they were following some sort of orders. And they were speaking to each other in a language I'd never heard before."

An army of flying monkeys had invaded the Enchanted Forest? What had gone on here in the year or so since Hook had left?

"Orders?" Regina asked, "Who's orders were they following?"

"Well, that is the question of the hour," Blue answered. "The monkeys chased us out of the fairy haven, and we managed to escape with little else but our lives. On our way here, we passed the palace, and it was clearly occupied. Someone is living there, and living well by the looks of it. I would venture to guess that whoever is living in the palace is calling the shots."

"Whoever is living in the palace is trespassing," Regina said with a sneer. She conjured a fireball and held it in her hand. "I say we go and take it back!"

"I would advise against such a move, Regina," Blue cautioned, "Whoever or whatever is in charge is evil. I've never felt such menace. Our fairy magic has no effect here."

Regina scoffed. "If you'll remember, I was called the _evil_ queen," she spat. "Unlike all the rest of you goody-two-shoes I can do what needs to be done. I can fight fire with…well with fire." She gestured with the fireball in her hand.

Hook looked around at the group. Snow, Charming and Bae seemed to be strongly considering Regina's suggestion. Belle looked as though she wouldn't ever care about anything again.

"I would advise against a direct attack as well," Hook finally said, "We've no knowledge of the foe we face. He could possess weapons of which we know nothing. We have few weapons, and our natural powers will be weakened in our current state of exhaustion and emotional unrest. I propose we retreat and survey our options."

Charming and Snow shared an assessing look before turning back to the group.

"Hook makes some good points," Snow finally said. "I think we ought to seriously consider following his suggestions."

Regina rolled her eyes and exhaled a dramatic sigh. "What? You think that's the best idea just because it came from your daughter's boyfriend?"

"Wait just a minute!" Bae shouted. "He's not her boyfriend, nor will he ever be if I have anything to say about it."

"Oh grow up, Neal!" Regina spat, "We've all seen how Emma looks at the pirate. Cut your losses and move on."

"Move on?" Neal shouted, squaring off against the queen. "How dare you…"

Charming moved in between the pair and held them at arms-length. "Enough!" he snarled. "If you haven't noticed we're all on the same team. We'll never succeed in defeating our enemy if we are at each other's throats!"

Regina and Neal turned away from each other, arms crossed.

"No," Snow said, answering Regina's first question. "Hook's relationship or lack of relationship with my daughter has nothing to do with it. He was a military man. He led groups of men into battle. I value his insights in this matter."

Hook shot Snow a grateful look. It was extremely gratifying to think his lady's mother was coming to have such a high opinion of him.

"Fine," Regina huffed. "What's your plan, _pirate_?"

Hook rolled his eyes at the queen. He knew at least some of her animosity was a result of her pain at losing her son, but it was getting old. Fast.

"As I said," Hook began patiently, "I propose we retreat. We can then send out scouting parties to survey our enemy. Who is he? Does he have magic? What weapons are at his disposal? We can then tailor our attack."

"It's a wise plan," Charming said with a nod, "but in the meantime, where do we go? We need a roof over our heads. Winter is coming, and this land is no longer the most hospitable."

"My dad's castle," Neal suggested. Belle uttered a strangled cry and made an imploring gesture with her hand. Snow went to her and wrapped her in a reassuring hug.

"Is it still available and usable?" Charming asked.

"It was when I was here a month ago," Neal answered, turning toward Charming. "Is it still? Who knows? But it couldn't hurt to check it out."

"How far?" Snow asked.

"A good half-a-day to the north," Neal answered.

"Well," Hook answered turning toward the north, "As we have precious little daylight left, I suggest we get started."

_New York, present day_

Emma tried her best to go about her day. She saw Henry onto the bus, and then walked the block back to the apartment. She threw in a load of laundry and then began to clean. But none of it could sufficiently occupy her mind.

She was consumed with thoughts of him. _There has never been a day that I didn't think of you_. She'd heard that before! Not only that, but she'd heard it said in his voice! How was that even possible? She knew she'd never met the man before. Surely she would have remembered him. A man that handsome, that magnetic…how could she possibly have forgotten? Was she losing her mind? She'd never felt so off-balance in her life…even when Neal betrayed her and sent her to prison in his place.

If it had just been that one sentence, maybe she could have moved on, but it hadn't. At odd times all throughout the morning she'd had flashes of…imaginations? Forgotten memories? The two of them were by some sort of swirling lake fighting with swords. _Swords?_ She'd never even held a sword before! She found him along a road; he had been seriously injured. He was handing her a translucent bean. They were walking through a jungle.

When Emma had spent five minutes trying to fold the same towel over and over again, she decided something had to be done. She couldn't believe she was even contemplating it, but she needed to talk to the man.

Donning her favorite red coat, Emma walked down to the police station. When he was released, she would be waiting for him.

"Alright buddy, you're free to go." The grizzled officer who had arrested him unlocked the cell where Hook had spent the morning and motioned for him to step out.

"I'm free?" Hook asked as he made his way to the desk where the police woman had possession of his coat and artificial hand.

"Yep," the man answered, "You're lucky. The lady you harassed decided not to press charges."

"Harassed?" Hook asked with a raise of his eyebrow. "It was not harassment! We were merely having a conversation."

"Um-hm," the officer said handing him his things. "If I were you, buddy, I'd steer clear of that kind of 'conversation'."

Hook didn't bother to respond; he merely rolled his eyes. Adjusting his prosthetic, he walked out of the station and started down the stairs. He looked up and nearly missed a step. She was there, and she was clearly waiting for him!

"You wish to speak to me lass?" Hook asked gently as he closed the distance between them.

Her eyes shifted to the side and then focused on him. "Who exactly are you?" she finally asked.

"My name is Killian Jones," he answered simply, "and I'm a…friend…of the family."

The look of exasperation was back in her beautiful eyes. "I've told you before...several times…that aside from Henry, I don't _have _any family."

"None that you remember, at least," he said. He ached to take her in his arms. It took a Herculean effort to keep them at his sides. She was willing to talk to him; the last thing he needed to do was scare her off.

"Killian," she said, trying out his name. "I've never had a family. My parents abandoned me along the side of the road the very day I was born. I was in and out of foster homes all my life."

"Ah, lass," he drawled. "You're wrong. You did have a family. The day you were born your family and everyone they knew found themselves in grave danger. They faced a foe far too formidable to defeat at the time."

"So they just abandoned me?" she asked, and the pain in her voice was terrible to hear. "They just left me along a road to die?"

"Nay love," he said. He took a chance and began caressing her arm. She didn't pull away. "They did the only thing they could to keep you from succumbing to the same fate they were doomed to."

Emma stared intently into his eyes for long moments. Hook allowed the scrutiny, keeping his face as open as he could.

_Please let her remember! Please let her at least listen!_

After long moments, the lass gave her head a quick, decisive nod.

"It all sounds crazy," she said at last, "but you're telling the truth; I can see that."

Hook's smile blossomed across his face. It was the first time he'd smiled, really smiled, in the past year.

"Is there somewhere we can go to talk, lass?" Hook asked softly. "I have much I need to tell you."

The wary look was back in her face.

"I swear to you on my life that I have nothing but the most honorable of intentions," he said, his voice oozing with persuasive charm.

After another moment she dropped her eyes again. "There's a diner about a block away that I go to a lot," she said. "I'll give you an hour."

Hook smiled again and motioned for her to precede him. "That's all I ask, love. That's all I ask."

_Notes__:_

_-So it looks like Emma is going to give Hook a chance to explain himself. What can he possibly say to convince her of the truth? Will she agree to give him more than that initial hour? Will we ever see some quality Hook/Henry bonding time? Yeah, I think that is definitely in the cards somewhere! _

_-Coming up next: Long, long ago in Camelot King Arthur takes the throne. The mysterious sorcerer, Merlin, shows up with the gift of a round table…a table that has magical powers. Morgana plots her next devious move. In present day New York City, Hook and Emma share a meal…and a very interesting conversation._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Camelot, long, long ago_

The coronation had been the grandest affair Morgana had ever attended. Nearly everyone in Camelot had been in attendance, from the highest noble to the lowest commoner. When the archbishop had placed the intricately decorated crown on Arthur's head, the cathedral had erupted in applause. Following the ceremony, King Arthur had invited everyone back to the castle for the banquet.

The great hall of the castle was decked from floor to ceiling with brightly colored tapestries. The rushes lining the floor were newly laid and strewn with fragrant herbs. Roaring fires blazed along all four of the walls. Morgana wandered throughout the hall sipping her spiced mead.

"Watch where you're going, careless girl!" sneered a woman in a bright blue, brocaded gown. Morgana shot the woman a filthy glare. Careless girl, was she? Oh that woman and all her ilk would be singing a different tune once Morgana had taken over!

It had been a year since Arthur had pulled Excalibur from the stone. A year of difficulty and strife. Arthur had no sooner pulled the sword and cemented his claim to the throne before he was challenged by powerful baron after powerful baron. It seemed there were many who didn't relish having a scrawny eighteen-year-old who had never so much as been master of a dog as their new king and liege lord.

But Arthur didn't only have enemies. He had many faithful and valiant friends as well. Most prominent among them were twelve knights who had rallied to his side the moment he had become heir apparent to the throne of Camelot. Led by the Arthur and his right-hand man, Sir Lancelot, the twelve had bravely fought off all of Arthur's attackers.

Excalibur was truly an extraordinary weapon. It had been said that no one who wielded that sword would ever be defeated. Given Arthur's incredible…and unexplainable…prowess on the battlefield, it appeared the rumors were true.

One year after pulling the sword from the stone, Arthur and his trusty knights had defeated the last foe, and the coronation date had been set.

"Morgana!" came Mordred's deep voice. Morgana turned to look up at the tall, non-descript young man at her right. When had her timid little brother grown into a man? It was hard to believe he had celebrated his eighteenth birthday the week before!

"Aye?" she asked.

"It's Merlin!" Mordred answered excitedly, "Merlin has arrived and he means to give the king a gift!"

Morgana craned her neck forward to see the high table on the dais. Mordred was right. The mysterious sorcerer had arrived. He sat to the left of Arthur, his golden tinted, almost scaly face unmistakable. It was said that Merlin had been the one to guide Arthur to the sword in the stone that would seal his destiny. Why Merlin had wanted to help a poor, non-descript orphan was anyone's guess. Merlin never did a favor for anyone without expecting something in return.

Merlin got to his feet, and a hush fell over the assembly.

"It is time that I bestow my gift on the new king," Merlin said. "I'm a busy man, and I need to get back to my son."

He waved his hands in a flamboyant flourish and a sturdy, wooden, perfectly round table appeared before the dais. It glowed for a moment with unmistakable magic and then became quite ordinary once more.

"A…table," Arthur stated in obvious confusion. "My thanks, good sir."

Merlin gave a high pitched giggle. "Not just any table, Dearie. The Round Table."

"Yes," Arthur said, his brow furrowing, "I can see its shape."

"Ah!" Merlin said, "but this is no ordinary table. It has been infused with some of the strongest magic in Fairy Tale Land."

Merlin gestured to the knights who sat with King Arthur at the dais. "True love, is stronger than any force in the realm. But love is not limited to the romantic; it can take many forms. Your knights have provided the magic for this table. They have proven their devotion many times over."

"Aye," Arthur answered, "So they have."

"As long as they are united and remain in Camelot," Merlin continued, "The country will remain strong, and you will never be defeated. Should the knights scatter, the table will break and its magic will be destroyed."

There was a murmur throughout the hall. Morgana gasped in wonder. What manner of man was this Merlin? How was he able to produce such powerful magic? New visions and new ambitions began to swirl in her head. Perhaps she was aiming too low. No doubt she could achieve greatness as queen, but what heights couldn't she reach if she was in possession of magic as well? She must meet Merlin and bend him to her will.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Morgana took a deep breath and then knocked on the door. The thick wood made a dull, hollow sound. She heard movement from within and waited nervously for the door to swing open.

During the remainder of the coronation banquet, Morgana had thought quickly trying to determine the best way to get Merlin alone, and she had finally determined that her only option was to follow the sorcerer to his guest chamber here at the castle.

"Enter," came the reply from within, and Morgana pushed the heavy door open. Merlin sat in a chair before the roaring fire. His open trunk lay on the bed. It appeared she had arrived just in time. It looked like the sorcerer was planning to leave any moment.

"Ah," Merlin said with a little giggle, "The healer's apprentice, I see."

"Aye," Morgana said, striding boldly into the room and coming to stop right before him.

"And what is it that you are wanting?"

"I've heard of you before," Morgana stated giving him an assessing look. "But you went by a different name."

"I have many different names in many different lands," Merlin said with a flourish of his hand. "Names are kind of my thing."

There was silence for a moment, and Morgana decided her best option was to just come out with it. "Give me magic," she demanded.

Merlin cackled again. "Magic isn't something that can be _given_, Dearie," he said. "You have to possess it on your own."

"Maybe I do possess it," Morgana stated boldly. "Teach me to use it."

"All magic comes with a price," the sorcerer warned.

"I'm more than willing to pay any price," Morgana stated.

Merlin gave another flamboyant wave of his hand and a large, old book appeared in midair. Morgana reached for it.

"Not so fast, Dearie," Merlin said yanking the book from her grasp. "If I am to do this favor for you, I will expect something in return."

"And what might that be?" Morgana asked warily.

"A favor," Merlin stated, "to be paid when and where I choose."

"And if I refuse to grant your favor?" Morgana asked with a raised eyebrow.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "No one goes back on their deal with Merlin and lives to tell of it!"

Morgana swallowed hard. No, she didn't think anyone would deny the sorcerer if he came to them looking like this.

"Very well," Morgana stated holding out her hand for the book. "When will our lessons begin?"

Merlin cackled again. "Oh, I didn't promise you lessons, Dearie. Just this book."

"What?" Morgana exclaimed, "And how am I to learn magic from a book?"

Merlin turned her toward the chamber door and ushered her out.

"It's quite simple," he said in a mocking tone. "It's a spell book. If you possess magic, you'll know how to use it; if you don't, I couldn't help you anyway."

_New York, present day._

Hook held the leather-covered chair, seated Emma, and then took his own seat across the tiny table from the lass. A pretty waitress in a blue dress and white apron came to the table carrying a pad of paper and a pencil. She took one look at him and gave him a grin of unmistakable invitation. He saw Emma roll her eyes.

"What can I get for you folks?" the waitress asked in a friendly tone.

The lass ordered a burger and fries, and Hook said he would have the same.

"So," Emma said as soon as the waitress had walked away. "You said your name is Killian?"

"Aye," Hook drawled taking a sip of the soda the waitress had brought him. "Killian Jones."

"And what exactly is it you do, Killian Jones."

"I am the captain of a fine ship," Hook answered.

"A sea captain?" Emma answered with a skeptical look.

"Aye," Hook answered, "though I have been known to use my ship for operations of…questionable legality."

"You're a pirate?" Emma asked sarcastically.

"I've been called such," Hook admitted.

There was silence for several moments. This was more difficult that Hook had anticipated. What could he possibly say that would convince the lass of the truth? He could see she already considered him at least half mad. What would she think if he came out and claimed to be a fairy tale character…who had come to ask her to come back to the Enchanted Forest to try to save her parents, Snow White and Prince Charming? She'd probably have him arrested again.

"Why did you agree to meet with me, love?" He asked gently, toying with his straw wrapper. "Not that I'm not overjoyed that you did, but you seemed far less than eager to be in my company."

She looked at him for a moment and then dropped her eyes. "I know it's crazy, but I can't get over the feeling that I _know_ you from somewhere."

Elation bubbled up from within, but Hook kept his face carefully neutral. Wouldn't do to scare the lass.

"I keep having these, I don't know, visions? Memories?" she continued.

"Aye?" he asked taking a bite of the burger the waitress had just brought him. "What do you see in these visions or memories?"

"Well," she said, toying with her fries, "The most vivid one yet came this morning. You and I were climbing this big vine-thing. This is going to sound insane, but I think it was a beanstalk. We were in search of something."

"Ah, yes," Hook said with a smile, "Our first adventure together. We were in search of a compass that would allow you and your mother to return home."

The lass sighed in obvious frustrations. "Killian," she said, "you keep referring to my mother and my parents and my family. How many times do I have to tell you I have no family but Henry? If I even have a mother somewhere, there's not much chance I would want to go anywhere with her. She abandoned me like a piece of trash she wanted to get rid of. I don't exactly have warm fuzzy feelings toward her."

Hook shot her a gentle look. "Your mother's name is Mary Margaret, and your father's is David," he said knowing their Storybrooke names would be easier to swallow than their real ones. "They loved you more than life itself, and love you still."

"Yeah?" Emma asked with a raise of her eyebrow, "'cause I always abandon people who I love more than life itself."

"They had no choice, love," he said, reaching for a fry, "They come from a…far distant land, a land that was in chaos and turmoil at the time of your birth. They were in grave danger, they and all their friends and relations. They knew that the only way to save you was to send you away."

"Exactly what 'far distant land' is it that I'm supposed to be from?" she asked.

"I can't say," Hook prevaricated. He knew she wasn't ready yet to hear that she was from the Enchanted Forest.

"Oh, that's convenient," she drawled reaching for her cup. Hook reached over with his good hand and covered her hand with his. He was sure she would pull away, but she didn't. He looked up and met her eyes. There was an awareness there, and a, dare he hope? A hint of attraction. The lass was far from unaffected by his touch.

"Lass," Hook said, and his voice had deepened and become husky, "I know this is difficult to take in, but I need you to trust me. Your parents are once again in grave danger, and I need your help to save them!"

She looked at him assessingly once again, and he simply waited. "Why?" she asked. "Why have you gone to all this trouble to find me? Why do you care what happens to my family?"

He could tell his answer would mean a lot to her. It was time he take a gamble and tell her the truth. Tell it to her more directly than he ever had before.

"I care because I love you," he said simply. "More than I've ever loved any other person. More than I love my own life. I care what happens to your family because, you might not remember it, but they are important to you. They are important to me because they are a part of you."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma's heart pounded so hard that she was sure Killian would be able to hear it. He loved her? _He loved her_? She should get up and leave, run as far from this wacko as she could get. But God help her, she couldn't….because something in her called out for him. Some insane part of her wanted to say those three fateful words right back to him! What the hell was wrong with her?

"Killian…" she began. He leaned forward, and his intent was clear. He was going to kiss her. She was well adept at warding off unwanted advances from men. Why did it take everything within her to make her pull back from him? He saw her movement, and the pain in his startlingly blue eyes was almost her undoing.

"Lass," he whispered, "Don't say you feel nothing. Please don't say it."

She didn't know what she was going to say, but what came out of her mouth surprised the both of them. "Did I love you too?"

His eyes softened. "I don't know," he said gently, "but I have reason to hope that the connection I felt between us wasn't one-sided."

"It wasn't," she answered quickly, and then gasped. Where had that come from? She closed her eyes. What kind of mind-control tricks was this guy using on her? She couldn't have had feelings for him before because she'd never _met_ him before yesterday. But insane as it was, she did have feelings for him. Deep within the core of her being, she knew he had once been someone important to her.

Emma opened her eyes to see a look so painfully tender in his eyes that it nearly tore her apart.

"I don't know where that came from," she whispered, looking away from him again. "It goes against every grain of common sense within me to even take a word you say seriously. I should walk out of this restaurant and tell you I'll have a restraining order placed on you if you ever get within three miles of me again."

"Why don't you?" he asked softly, lacing his finger with hers across the table.

"Because I can't," she said so quietly her words were almost inaudible. "I have this inescapable feeling that if I did, it would be the biggest mistake of my life."

He smiled at her once more, and the butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach. He really was a beautiful man.

"How can I possible believe you?" she asked looking up at him.

"I am acquainted with someone else who was once very important to you," Killian said. "He's also in danger, but he asked me to stay in his apartment while I try to convince you to help us. Go there with me. He has some items he believes will help jog your memory."

Her curiosity was immediately piqued. Though it went against every better judgment she'd ever had, Emma heard herself answering "Okay."

_Notes:_

_-So, does Merlin remind you of someone? If not, I must have done a terrible job of dropping hints! I figured he has a part in pretty much every other fairytale/legend out there, why couldn't he have a significant part in the Arthurian legend as well?_

_-Back in New York, it's obvious that Emma is not only beginning to remember events that happened before Regina cursed her, she's beginning to remember her feelings as well. Hook intrigues her, though she has no idea why._

_-Up next: 1 year ago in the Enchanted Forest, the Storybrooke folks make their way to Rumplestiltskin's castle which they find inhabited by a certain famous outlaw and his band of merry men/woman. In present day New York, Hook takes Emma to Neal's apartment, and she's in for even more startling revelations._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Enchanted Forest, 1 year ago_

Regina gaped at Snow in utter disbelief. Had she really just said that? Did her infernal optimism really know no bounds? Throwing up her hands and rolling her eyes, Regina dashed forward. If she remained with Snow and her useless lump of a prince for another moment the fireballs would start flying!

She soon caught up to Hook, walking quickly by himself, his head down, his slumped shoulders giving evidence of his dejection. Regina rolled her eyes. How long would they be treated to his pining for Miss Swan? Still, he would be far better company than she had been keeping. No chance of sunny optimism from the pirate.

"Your majesty," Hook said with a slight incline of his head, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Was it really necessary for him to employ that slightly mocking tone _every_ time he spoke to her?

"I can't take the rainbows and flowers anymore," she said with a grimace.

Hook looked behind them to Snow and Charming who were walking arm in arm.

"Her parents?" he asked.

"Who else?" Regina drawled. "Do you know what Snow just said to me?"

"I couldn't begin to guess, love,"

"She said ''Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'."

Hook looked behind them again before turning his blue gaze back to her. "A bit more flowery and poetic than her normal style."

"She was quoting a poet from Henry's realm," Regina said. She heard the slight quiver in her voice when she said her son's name, and she hated herself for it. The last thing she wanted to display was weakness.

The pirate gave her a sympathetic look. "The poet's words have merit, love."

Regina glared at him.

"Please don't tell me they're converting you too!" she drawled, "You, the dreaded Captain Hook. The man who spent three hundred years trying to get revenge on the man who killed your first love?"

"To whom do you suggest we direct our vengeance, your majesty?" Hook asked simply. "The demon who brought about our loss is dead."

"I'm sure we could find someone to punish," Regina drawled. "Revenge is the only way I know to survive this kind of loss."

Regina stumbled on a tree root, and Hook steadied her with his good hand. She looked up at him and was disconcerted to see the pity in his eyes.

"As you said, love," Hook said once again looking forward, "I spent three hundred years pursuing my revenge, but it was a fruitless endeavor. My hatred did nothing to harm the Crocodile, nor did it do anything to assuage my pain. It was like a poison steadily dripping into my wound, ensuring it could never heal."

"And yet," Regina said, "you almost succeeded. For one shining, glittering moment, you thought you'd killed him."

"Aye," Hook agreed with a nod of the head, "but it didn't result in the satisfaction I had anticipated. I was left feeling…empty rather than sated."

Regina gave him an assessing look. "So," she asked curiously, "how exactly do you intend to cope this time?"

"Last time I submitted to my hate," Hook said. "This time I intend to be true to my love. I intend to live in such a way that my Emma would be proud of me."

Regina looked ahead to Tinker Bell, who was in animated conversation with Neal. "Long ago when I was first married, Tinker Bell said much the same thing to me," Regina murmured softly.

"An intelligent lass," Hook said with a smile.

"Maybe so," Regina said, "but maybe I've been the Evil Queen for too long. I've burned far too many bridges. Maybe love just isn't in the cards for me anymore."

They continued walking for what felt like days. Was it possible that it was only yesterday they had all celebrated at the docks, believing they had defeated Pan and brought Henry back safely. Regina felt an unpleasant lurch in her stomach. How was she to live without her son? The days and years spread bleakly before her. Alone. Henry had been the only good thing in her life since Daniel. How could she go on without him?

She heard Belle's agonized cry up ahead and quickly lifted her head. Belle had dropped to the ground, almost screaming in her agony. Regina was unaccustomed to feeling pity, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor woman. She well remembered the first days after Daniel's death. She wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy. Well, ok, she would have wished it on Snow.

Rumplestiltskin's huge, ostentatious castle rose before them, silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun. They'd made it at last! Hook followed by Regina, Snow and Charming quickly traversed the drawbridge, went through the huge wooden entrance portal and into the great hall. It seemed Belle couldn't yet bring herself to enter, and Neal and Tinker Bell stayed behind to console her.

Regina rotated in place, looking over Rumplestiltskin's most impressive room. It didn't look much different than it had the last time she'd been here. That in itself was suspicious. Shouldn't a room that had been abandoned years before show a little more…neglect?

As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Regina's sense of unease grew. Coals in the massive fireplace still glowed faintly. A half-drunk goblet of wine sat on the table. A book lay face-down on a table next to a comfortable looking chair.

Regina waved her hand and a fireball materialized.

"What are you doing," Snow asked in a shocked voice.

"We're not alone," Regina answered in a soft voice.

"Are you quite certain, your majesty?" Hook asked.

"Indeed," Regina answered firmly, "I can feel their presence."

"Friend or foe?" Hook pressed.

Regina turned toward the dark pirate and gave him an exasperated look. "How the hell should I know?"

"Best ready our weapons just in case," Charming said drawing his sword. Hook did the same, while Snow notched an arrow to her bow.

The sound of footsteps in the hall was unmistakable. Regina raised her hand, ready to strike. A small boy, no more than six or seven bounded into the hall, and then stopped abruptly as though he'd run into a brick wall. His eyes widened and a cry of alarm ripped from his mouth.

"No!" he shouted, "Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me."

Regina immediately waved her hand and her fireball disappeared. She dropped to her knees before the child and reached out toward him.

"No, no," Regina said softly, "we won't harm you. It's alright. Don't be afraid."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o_

Robin Hood peered intently at the map laid across the desk in the study. His lieutenant, Little John pointed to a spot far to the west.

"There," Little John said, "the west country is our best option."

"But we concentrated our efforts there but a month past," Robin Hood argued. "The witch will be sure to catch us if we're so careless."

"I don't believe so," Little John countered, "If my theory is correct…"

A little boy's cry rang clearly from the great hall. _Roland!_ Robin Hood surged to his feet and snagged his bow as he ran toward the sound of his son's panicked voice. He heard Little John and several of his other men behind him.

Robin didn't know what he expected to find in the great hall, but the sight that met his eyes certainly wasn't it. Roland stood in the middle of the hall next to a beautiful dark haired woman who was kneeling beside him. The look the woman gave her son nearly stole his breath. No one had looked at the lad with such maternal concern since his Marian had died.

The unmistakable sound of a sword being returned to its scabbard drew Robin's gaze, and for the first time, he noticed several other people in his hall—all very well armed, it appeared. Robin raised his bow and pointed it at a man with sandy-colored hair who seemed to be the leader.

"State your business," he demanded brusquely. "What call have you to break into my hall and frighten my son."

"Your son?" the dark haired woman asked getting to her feet.

"Aye," Robin said looking into her eyes the color of molten chocolate. The lad came to stand at his side, and peered up at the woman.

She smiled down at Roland before bringing her gaze back to his. A ripple of awareness ran through him as their gazes collided.

"He's quite a handsome little boy," she breathed. It seemed she was no more able to break their eye contact than was he.

"We mean no harm," the sandy-haired man said, boldly striding forward. Robin reluctantly dragged his gaze from the woman and trained it on the man.

"State your business," Robin said again in a firm voice. "It is no longer safe in the Enchanted Forest to extend hospitality to strangers."

Another man dressed all in leather with a hook in place of his left hand stepped forward. "If that be the case," he said, "what assurance have we that you mean to treat honorably with us?"

Robin bristled and readied a blistering response, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more people enter the hall.

"Belle!" he said remembering the lady who had saved him when he was imprisoned in this very castle. "And Neal!"

Neal walked forward, extending his hand. "Robin Hood," He said giving a hearty handshake. "It's good to see you again. My friends and I need a place to stay."

"The castle is yours," Robin said his welcoming gesture now encompassing the whole group, "and we were just getting ready for our evening repast. You're welcome to join us if you would like."

_New York, present day_

Hook unlocked the door and held it wide, gesturing with his black, prosthetic hand for Emma to enter. She gave him a brief, questioning look and then stepped inside.

"I've been here before," Emma said so softly Hook wondered if she was talking to him at all. "I don't know when or why, but I know I've been here."

"Aye lass," he said stepping into the small apartment and closing the door. "You were here more than and year past…and so was I."

He wasn't altogether proud of his actions that day he had made his way to Neal's apartment building. His mind went back to shoving the lass aside and driving his poisoned hook into his enemy's heart. Then came the pain and insensibility as the lass crashed a chair over his head. He smiled to himself. His Emma could certainly defend herself!

"A year past?" she asked in a troubled voice, "If it happened last year, why wouldn't I remember it?"

Hook didn't answer, merely walked toward the window looking out onto the fire escape. How could he even begin to explain Regina's curse to the lass?

She came up beside him. "What's this?" she asked reaching for the dream catcher hanging from the window sash.

"Do you recognize it, love?" he asked gently, reluctantly. What was he thinking bringing her to Neal's apartment? Wouldn't it have been more prudent to secure her love first before reminding her of the other man she'd loved?

"Yeah," she breathed in wonder. "Well, at least it looks like something I used to have."

Hook reached out and snagged a chain on which hung a swan keychain. "And this," he asked. "Do you recognize this as well?"

Emma's hand went to her neck, and then she looked up at him in shock. "It's not possible!" she said, eyes widening.

Suddenly her expression clouded. "Neal," she said in a hard voice. "You brought me to Neal Cassidy's apartment.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Pain slammed into Emma as she looked up at the man before her. It was pain she'd been viciously pushing down for twelve years. Suddenly it flooded her whole system again. She thought back to Neal. She had been so in love with him. She had been convinced she had found her soul mate, the first person in her whole life who would stand beside her and defend her no matter what.

She had been wrong. So very wrong. Neal had betrayed her. He'd escaped to Canada, tipping off the police to arrest her for the crime he committed. Betrayal was far too tame a word for what she had felt as that cop slapped the handcuffs on her. She'd grown up that day. Taken her last step into adulthood. She'd come to realize it was stupid to trust anyone. To this day she kept to herself. Henry was the only person she'd ever let in after Neal.

Tears filled her eyes and the man before her swam in and out of focus. He was a friend of Neal's? She turned away, meaning to head straight back out the door. Her initial assessment must have been correct. No friend of Neal's could be friend of hers!

He stopped her with his right hand to her shoulder. She stiffened but didn't shrug off his touch.

"Love," he pleaded, "please listen to me."

"Why should I do that?" she asked in a hard voice. "You admit you're Neal's friend. If you know anything about my relationship with Neal you'll know that bringing me here is about the worst thing you could have done if you want my cooperation."

Killian turned her to face him. She saw concern, genuine concern in his eyes. He closed those beautiful blue eyes for a second and then looked back down at her.

"Don't think too hard of him, lass," he said in a gravelly voice. "He loves you. He's always loved you."

"Yet another person you claim loves me," Emma said feeling the anger bubble up from within. "And yet another person who abandoned me."

"He was wrong," Killian said firmly, "but he was doing what he thought was best for you."

"Sending me to _jail_ was what was best for me?!" Emma shouted.

"Aye, so he thought," Killian said. There was a strange look in his eye. It was as though the words were being ripped from his mouth against his will.

"What possible reason could he have had for believing I would be better off in jail?"

"He met with an old…friend," Killian answered, "who made him realize you had a destiny…a destiny you would never be able to fulfill if you went to Canada with him."

"I was the savior," Emma said without thinking, then shot a startled look at the man. Where had _that _come from?

"Aye," he answered, clearly waiting for her to continue.

"But," she said in confusion, "if he loved me, why didn't he ever come back for me? I got out of jail in eleven months. That was eleven years ago. If he truly cared for me, he would have come back to me."

A hard look came briefly into Killian's eyes and then was replaced by one of sadness. "He was wrong, lass," he said finally. "He knows that. He regrets leaving you more than anything that he's ever regretted."

Emma ran her hand through her blond hair and began pacing. She couldn't deal with this. It was too much!

"Why?" she asked Killian finally. "Why would you tell me all this? You..in the diner you told me you love me. Why would you tell me all these good things about a man I used to love? Wouldn't it be kind of like helping the competition?"

A sad smile came onto his face and he cupped her cheek with his hand. "I don't want there to be any trickery between us, love," he said gently.

_They were in the jungle. It was humid and dark, as it had been morning, noon and night in this stupid place. He stood before her. So close. She felt herself swaying toward him._

"_But I also believe in good form," he said stepping even closer to her. "So when I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it won't be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me."_

Emma gasped and looked up at Killian. He smiled down at her.

"You remember something, love?" he asked. It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, I guess," Emma said feeling distinctly flustered. "But it makes no sense. We were in a jungle. You were talking to me. You told me you would win my heart, but not through trickery." _It will be because you want me._

His smile grew more tender. "One of my fondest memories from that place," he said caressing her cheek.

"What _was_ that place?" she asked stepping away from him. The panic was beginning to claw at her. Where were these memories coming from?

"There's a distinct chance you wouldn't believe me if I tell you," he prevaricated.

The panic grew more insistent. She began to shake.

"Are you alright, there, Swan?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

"I don't know," she said starting to pace again. "Am I going crazy? All these weird memories. All these things you insist happened between us. Why can't I remember it? If something happened between us 'scarcely a year ago', I should be able to remember it! For that matter, when I try to think back to what I was doing a year ago, it's a blur. I can't remember! I'm going crazy!"

He was at her side in two bounds. He wrapped his arms around her, his right hand at the back of her neck, his left hanging loosely at her back. "Sh, lass," he crooned, "you're not mad."

Emma's arms crept up, and she clung to him. "I must be, Killian! What other explanation is there?"

He rocked her back and forth. It was the most soothing gesture she'd felt in quite some time. "You can't remember because…" he seemed to hesitate over his next words, "a woman named Regina gave you different memories."

_Regina_. The name sounded familiar. A mix of anger, distrust, and finally grudging respect welled up at the name.

"What did this Regina do to me?" Emma asked, still clinging to Killian.

"She…modified your memories," he answered. She could tell he was uncomfortable.

"What? With drugs? Hypnosis?" Emma persisted.

Killian pulled away far enough that he could see her face. "Something like that," he said hesitantly.

Emma nodded and pulled out of his embrace. He didn't want to tell her for some reason. Why? She glanced absently down at her watch and then gasped.

"I've got to go, Killian," she said heading toward the door, "Henry will be back from school any minute."

He nodded and gave her a sad smile. She hesitated, her hand on the apartment door. Somehow it seemed wrong, him spending the evening alone here in this small apartment.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" she asked impulsively. "Nothing fancy. I'll probably just order a pizza or something."

His smile was wide and delighted this time. "I'd love to lass."

_Notes__:_

_-Ok, so Regina and Robin Hood have met, and there is clearly a spark. What will happen when Robin Hood finds out who she was in the Enchanted Forest? Did he (or someone he loved) suffer because of some of her previous Evil Queen-ish actions? If so, can he forgive her and move forward?_

_-I'm not altogether happy with my Robin Hood. He hasn't been on Once Upon A Time enough for me to really get a good read on his character. It makes him very difficult to write. Hopefully he didn't come off as too wooden and one-dimensional._

_-I've been trying to have Emma get a few more of her memories back each chapter. As a teaser…a couple chapters from now, she will remember their Neverland kiss in exquisite detail. _

_-Up next: Long long ago in Camelot, King Arthur decides it's time to find a wife. Morgana sees her chance to become queen and tries to seduce him. Unfortunately for her, he's already more than smitten with the lovely (and rather naïve) Lady Guinevere. In present day New York…well, my Hook and Emma scenes have been rather long on drama lately, so I think it's time to pull back and add a little fluff. Hook comes to dinner at Emma's (wondering profusely exactly what "pizza" is). There's some quality Hook/Henry bonding time—when Hook decides to set Henry straight on the truth about fairy tales. And…they decide to watch a certain fairy tale movie…which Hook finds very offensive. _


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Camelot, long long ago_

Morgana crept to the door of the healer's cottage and peered outside. She saw no sign of the old woman. She must still be busy in the village. Perfect.

Morgana went back to her seat at the rustic wooden table, lit another candle to illuminate the dim room, and fished her spell book out of her bag. It had been well-nigh six months since the coronation, six months since she had begun learning magic.

It had been a frustrating endeavor. She clearly had a spark of magic within; she'd succeeded with a few of the simpler incantations, but she'd utterly failed to produce anything of substance. Morgana turned the ancient pages carefully until she reached the page she was looking for—instructions for conjuring fire. Try as she might, she'd never so much as produced a spark.

Taking a deep breath, Morgana tried again. She read the instructions slowly, carefully. She concentrated all her mental energy on the hearth before her and moved her hands just as the book instructed.

Nothing happened.

Her frustration bubbled up and boiled over. A curse on that confounded Merlin! How dare he give her a book of magic that she couldn't use! Likely he was afraid…afraid she would become more powerful than he, that she would supplant him as sorcerer extraordinaire! Well, she wouldn't stand for it! If Merlin wouldn't teach her magic, she would learn it on her own.

Morgana tossed her book onto the table. It bounced once and then landed with a thud on the floor. Morgana let out a growl of frustration, and shot her hand out, intending to pick up the offending book. A ball of fire shot from her hand into the cold fireplace. In a moment, a roaring fire was blazing, heating the entire cabin.

She'd done it! Her anger had produced magic! Morgana smiled in pure triumph. After all the slights she'd endured, all the taunts, all the nobles who had treated her like dung they wished to avoid stepping in, all the village boys who mocked and poked fun at her…well she had a lifetime of anger stored up. In no time at all, she'd be producing magic so powerful even Merlin would be in awe of her!

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

The next morning, Morgana made her daily trip to the well in the village square. The village was positively buzzing with excitement. Silly girls who would have been her companions had she not been thrust into adulthood when her parents died tittered and gossiped in small clusters.

"Did you hear the news from the palace?" one blonde girl in a dirty gray dress asked her brunette companion.

"Nay. Do tell!" the brunette answered eagerly.

Morgana pulled the crank of the well bringing up a bucket of water. Normally she couldn't have cared less what these magpies gossiped about, but talk of the palace caught her attention.

"King Arthur has decided to take a wife," the blonde said excitedly.

"Who?" the brunette asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"No one knows," the blonde replied with a shrug, "he means to hold a grand ball at the close of the month. All the well-born ladies will be in attendance. It is said that he will make his choice at the close of the ball."

"Oh, I wish it were me," the brunette said with a theatrical sigh. "Can you imagine? Being named queen…being married to the handsome King Arthur." She sighed again.

Arthur, handsome? That simpering milquetoast? Morgana had no idea what the village girls saw in him. .

Still…marriage to Arthur would have its advantages. As Arthur's bride, Morgana would achieve her ambition of becoming queen. It would be the work of but a moment to bend her husband to her will. Within a week of their nuptials, Morgana would be the true ruler of Camelot.

Morgana poured the water from the well into her bucket and hurried back to her cabin. She had only a few days to conjure herself a ball gown and a new identity. If she was to succeed at catching Arthur's eye, she must be able to pass for the noblest of noblewomen. It wouldn't hurt to work on that interesting little seduction charm on page 637, either.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

A smiling page handed Morgana out of her carriage before the glorious castle of Camelot. Her magnificent royal blue gown complemented her sparkling eyes perfectly. Her silky raven black hair was curled luxuriantly and pinned up with dozens of tiny seed pearls and sapphires. The ensemble was completed with an elegant silvery tiara at the top of her head.

Morgana had never looked more beautiful, and she was well aware of it. As she glided across the drawbridge, through the inner bailey and into the splendidly decorated great hall, she was conscious of the admiring looks she was receiving from the haughty gentlemen…and the spitefully jealous looks of the ladies.

A queue was forming in front of the dais, all the eligible noble ladies having been instructed to present themselves to King Arthur. Morgana found herself behind a modestly pretty young woman with light brown hair and soft green eyes. The woman looked exceedingly nervous.

"All these lovely ladies," the woman said softly to Morgana. "I shouldn't have come. It was the height of foolishness to think the king could ever choose me!"

Morgana ignored the woman. She had no time to waste on her competition. But the woman wouldn't leave her alone.

"My name is Lady Guinevere," the woman persisted. "I hail from the city of Carhaise."

"A pleasure," Morgana said absently as the woman in front of Lady Guinevere was presented to the king.

"Oh, it was folly to try for his hand," Lady Guinevere said again, twisting her handkerchief in her soft, well-manicured hands. "I shall be ill. What shall I do if he rebuffs me? Oh, the majordomo is coming for me! Wish me luck, my lady!"

Morgana hoped her smile didn't look as false as it felt. It wouldn't do to offend the ladies of court. After all, when she became queen, they might make up the ranks of her ladies in waiting.

Morgana watched as Lady Guinevere was presented to King Arthur, and was immediately alarmed. Arthur's eyes lit up as soon as they fell upon Guinevere. Two spots of color spread over his cheeks, and his smile was wide and delighted. The kiss the king placed on her hand was undeniably fervent. The couple engaged in several minutes of animated conversation before a servant respectfully stepped in to escort Lady Guinevere to her seat in the hall.

"The Lady Morgana Le Fay," the majordomo spoke in his commanding tone before leading Morgana before the king. Arthur's eyes had followed Guinevere as she was seated, and it was clearly with the greatest reluctance that the king looked away.

This might take a bit more effort than Morgana had expected. As Arthur bent perfunctorily over her hand, Morgana muttered the charm of seduction. Now was when the king would raise his eyes to her. Now the look of love and passion would be on his face. Now he would declare his undying love.

But it didn't happen. When King Arthur looked at her, it was with the same politely distant look he had given every other woman in the hall…every other woman but Guinevere. What had gone wrong? She had spoken the spell perfectly…and she had done so with every ounce of anger and emotion she possessed. Why wasn't Arthur smitten with her?

She suddenly remembered Merlin's words. True love was the strongest magic there was. Had Arthur really fallen in love with Lady Guinevere at first sight? As Morgana settled into her seat at the table, she stamped her high heeled foot in exasperation. Her first attempt foiled before it was even begun. Arthur would marry Guinevere; she knew that as surely as she knew she would one day have power none of these high and mighty nobles could even dream of!

No matter, she thought to herself as she took a small sip of the mead she had been served. It was but her first attempt. There would be no end of opportunities in the coming years to reap the rewards she so richly deserved.

_New York, present day_

"Wow, mom," Henry said as she walked toward the kitchen in their apartment, "why are you all dressed up?"

Emma looked at herself in the reflection of one of the windows. She wasn't all dressed up! She was wearing jeans and a soft green sweater. Yes it was one of the most flattering she owned. And ok, she did curl her hair and spend some serious quality time with her make-up, but that didn't mean anything. The fact that Killian was coming for dinner in a few minutes had absolutely nothing to do with it. Couldn't a girl just look nice every now and then?

"Well," Emma answered dropping to the couch beside her son, "we're going to have a guest tonight."

"Is it like a date?" Henry asked curiously

Emma's face flamed.

"No, no," she answered, more than a little flustered, "nothing like that. Just a friend. Well really more of a casual acquaintance."

"Who is it?"

How was she to explain the handsome stranger to her son? "Do you remember the guy that came to our apartment yesterday morning?"

"The one who was at my bus stop today?" Henry asked. "The guy you had the cops arrest."

She'd almost forgotten about that. Well, this was going to be even more awkward than she had thought. "Yeah," she finally said uncomfortably, "that's the guy."

"Is he the one that's coming to dinner?"

"Well," she said, "yeah. He's all alone in this big city, and I thought he might like some company. You ok with that? I know this is our pizza and movie night."

"It's ok," Henry said reaching for the remote, "it'll be fun to have someone else here. Besides, I think he's a good guy."

Emma eyed her son curiously as he flipped through the channels.

"What makes you think he's a good guy?"

Henry turned toward her. "I don't know Mom. I just have this feeling."

He was silent for another moment, and then he turned toward her again, a slightly troubled look in his eyes. "It's like I know him from somewhere. All day long, I kept having these…I don't know…I guess they were daydreams. He was in them…and you…and this other woman with dark hair…and some other people. DO we know him?"

Emma put her arm around him and laid her cheek against the top of his head. "I don't know, kid," she said. "I've been having the same kind of daydreams. I wish I knew what it all means."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Killian walked the final block to Emma's apartment building. He turned the collar of his coat up and blew into his hands. Well, ok, he blew into his hand and his prosthetic. He had no idea New York would be so cold in mid-November. If he didn't miss the mark, they would be getting snow, and a lot of it, in the coming hours.

Reaching the building, Killian tried the door. Locked. He would have to have the lass buzz him up this time. He glanced through the names next to the door until he found the one he was looking for. He pressed the button and waited a few moments.

"Yes?" came her pleasing tones. A smile spread over her face just hearing the beloved voice. It had been so long, so very long. How had he survived the year they were parted?

"It's Killian, lass," he said

"Come on up, Killian," she said, and he heard the click of the building door unlocking. Reaching over, he opened the door and stepped inside.

As Killian climbed the three floors of stairs to the lass's apartment, he thought about the events of the past day. He smiled to himself. He was getting through to her. More and more memories had begun crashing through Regina's memory charm. And if he wasn't mistaken…and he rarely was in these matters…Emma's feelings for him were far more than platonic.

His smile slowly faded. He was making progress, but it was taking too bloody long. There truly wasn't a moment to loose. Just before he had left the Enchanted Forest, the witch had thrown Snow and Charming in the dungeon. Who knows what she'd done to them in the intervening weeks. What she'd done to them…or Baelfire…or any of the friends and allies he'd spent so much time with in the year since they'd be transported from Storybrooke.

Killian's hand reached up to grasp the cross hanging from his neck. He had to make the lass remember, and he had to make her love him. More than she could possibly know was depending on them.

An idea slowly began to take shape within Killian's mind. Perhaps he had miscalculated spending so much time trying to convince his Emma. Perhaps it was Henry he should have been working on. After all, the lad had the heart of the truest believer. He was quick to believe the unbelievable. Yes, this could work!

Reaching Emma's apartment, Killian rapped softly. She opened the door almost instantly. His appreciative gaze lazily roamed over her. Clearly she'd taken special pains with her appearance this evening. She was dazzling.

"You look lovely, lass," he said, stepping inside.

She ran a hand through her hair and looked away, clearly flustered. "Thanks. Go ahead and have a seat in the living room. The pizza will be here any minute."

Killian did as she asked and sat on an easy chair opposite Henry, wondering as he did so exactly what pizza was. It mattered not. The lass could be serving pig slop and it would taste like ambrosia to him.

"And you must be young master Henry," Killian said extending his hand. The boy grasped it and gave a couple of shakes.

"Yeah," he said, "and my mom told me your name is Killian."

"Aye," he answered, "that it is."

Emma was bustling around the kitchen pulling out cups and plates, pulling something that smelled chocolaty out of the oven.

"Do you need a hand love?" he asked, rising slightly.

"No," she answered with a wave of her hand. "Go ahead and hang out with Henry for a few minutes. Everything's almost ready."

"So Killian," Henry asked him, "what do you do?"

"I'm a sea captain," Killian answered, "some might call me a pirate."

"A pirate?" Henry asked, his eyes wide, "Like the kind that say 'shiver me timbers' and 'arrgh' and who make people walk the plank?"

Killian attempted an affronted look. "I can assure you I've never said 'shiver me timbers' in my life."

"I bet you have all kinds of awesome stories you could tell!" Henry said excitedly. Killian reached over and tussled the boy's hair.

"Aye, lad," he said with a grin, "although some are…er…less than appropriate for a young lad's ears. I'll tell you what. If your mother approves, I shall regale you with some of my finest as we dine."

"Cool!" Henry said, bounding to his feet at the knock on the door. "Pizza must be here."

Killian was pleasantly surprised by pizza. It was really quite delectable. He reached for another slice as the lad continued to tell them about his day. Emma smiled gently at the boy and Killian delighted in the sight of her. What would it be like to spend every evening like this? Pleasant conversation over dinner with the woman he loved and her lad? It would be heavenly.

"So," Henry said turning toward Killian, "can you tell us stories now?"

"Aye lad," he answered looking over at Emma, "if your mother approves."

She smiled over at him. "Why not," she answered, "I'm kind of interested in what kind of stories a pirate can tell."

Where should he begin? "It all started in the Enchanted Forest," he said.

"The Enchanted Forest?" Henry asked with more than a little skepticism, "I thought you would be telling me true stories, not fairy tales."

"There are many ways to tell the truth, lad," Killian said looking over at Emma. "Fairy tales are just one of many. Although, let me assure you, fairies are not all pleasant and ephemeral. Some are right nasty little creatures."

Emma smirked at him and rolled her eyes, but the lad looked interested.

"As I said," he said again, "it all began in the Enchanted Forest. Snow White had been put under a sleeping curse by her step mother, the Evil Queen, Regina."

The smirk slid from the lass's face to be replaced by a look of shock.

"Aye," he said answering her unasked question, "the very one of which we were speaking this afternoon."

"I know what happens in the story of Snow White," Henry said, looking a little disappointed, "Prince Charming gives her true love's kiss, and she wakes up."

"Right you are lad," Killian said, "but unless I'm much mistaken, you don't know what happened after the lovely lass awakened."

"They lived happily ever afterward," Henry said with a shrug. "Not much to tell after they defeated the evil queen."

"Ah," Killian said in a hushed voice, "but that is where you're wrong, lad."

The smirk was back on Emma's face. "They _didn't_ live happily ever after?" she asked in a voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

"Nay," Killian said with a shake of his head. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" Henry asked, leaning forward.

"Because they hadn't defeated the evil queen, not really."

"And what exactly did the evil queen do during Snow White and Prince Charming's not-so happily ever after?" Emma asked, taking a sip from her glass.

"She went to Rumplestiltskin's prison and…"

"Wait," Henry interrupted, "You're mixing your fairy tales. Rumplestiltskin isn't in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs."

Killian felt a surge of the old resentment at the sound of his enemy's name. "All in Fairy Tale land are in some way connected," he said finally, "and Rumplestiltskin is involved in more stories than you could possibly imagine."

"Really?" Henry asked.

"Aye," Killian continued, "but as I was saying, the evil queen visited Rumplestiltskin in his prison and demanded he give her a curse."

"What did the curse do?" Henry asked in rapt attention.

"It destroyed the happy endings of all within the Enchanted Forest," Killian answered.

"How exactly did a curse manage to do that?" Emma asked.

"It transported everyone to a town called Storybrooke here in this land, and made them forget who they were, who they loved, everything of their old lives."

"Storybrooke…" Henry said slowly, "that sounds familiar for some reason."

Killian looked deliberately into Emma's eyes, looking for any recognition. There was a troubled look in their depths. Perhaps the name of Storybrooke seemed familiar to his lass as well.

"Aye," Killian said, "he gave them different names, different identities, _modified their memories_."

The lass gasped and shot him a startled look.

"What were Snow White and Prince Charming's new names?" Henry asked, clearly unaware of his mother's discomfort.

"Mary Margaret and David," Killian said deliberately, maintaining eye contact with his Emma. She held his gaze for a moment and then looked away.

She abruptly got to her feet, and Killian stood as well. Bad form to remain seated when a lady was standing.

"I'll see about dessert," she said walking to the counter a few feet away.

"What happened to them then?" Henry asked?

"Well," Killian said, his eyes still on his lady. "Snow White and Prince Charming had a child, one child, a daughter."

He heard the lass's quick intake of breath.

"That child came back many years later, and managed to break the curse."

"So they all made it back to the Enchanted Forest?" Henry asked excitedly.

"Well," Killian said hesitantly. He would rather like to spare the lad memories of his time in Neverland, "there were a few more…adventures first."

Emma set a pan of something called "brownies" onto the tabletop…with far more force than necessary. It slid forward, and likely would have hit the floor had Killian not steadied it with his prosthetic hand. What was the look in the lass's eyes? Anger? Hurt? Confusion? He hated that he had been the one to cause it, whatever it was.

"What's wrong with your hand, Killian?" Henry asked looking at the black attachment where his hook should have been.

"Henry!" Emma said, aghast.

"It's alright, my lady," Killian said, turning to the lad. "I lost it long ago."

"How?" Henry asked.

Killian shot a quick look in Emma's direction. "It's a rather sordid tale, lad," he said carefully. "Suffice it to say, I had a…disagreement…with another man. He took my hand, as well as the woman I loved."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma's eyes slid shut as the memory rushed in.

"_Who's Milah on the tattoo?" she asked looking at his arm as he held out the bag of sleeping powder._

_He shrugged his sleeve down and looked away. "Someone from long ago."_

"_Where is she?"_

"_She's gone."_

_He walked away, and suddenly it all made sense. "Gold. Rumplestiltskin," she said, "He took more than your hand from you, didn't he?"_

_He stopped and turned back toward her._

"_That's why you want to kill him."_

_He was silent for a moment. "For someone who's never been in love you're quite perceptive, aren't you?" He finally asked._

"_Maybe I was…once," she whispered._

"Emma?" Killian asked, and she opened her eyes abruptly coming back to the present. "Is everything alright, love?"

She ran a hand through her hair and then nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You remembered something," he persisted. She looked up into his eyes. It seemed pointless to keep it from him.

"Yeah," she said, "I remember you telling me about the woman he killed, Milah, wasn't it?"

"Aye," he said with a sad smile, "that's the very one."

It was all becoming too much, way too much. She needed to get some space.

"Look, guys," She said standing to collect the empty dishes. Killian stood with her. "Why don't you go ahead and pick out a movie while I get this cleaned up."

"Can I help you, lass?" he asked. She got the feeling he was asking about much more than cleaning up the kitchen.

"No, that's ok," she said, smiling at him. "I'm fine. Go help Henry pick out a movie."

He held her gaze for a few more moments, and she felt rooted to the spot. What was the hold this man had on her? Why did she feel as drawn to him as a moth to a flame? Finally he nodded and broke eye contact. Emma slowly let out her breath as he turned away.

"What kind of a movie do you want to watch, Killian?" Henry asked from the living room.

"All these stories make we wonder about the portrayal of fairy tale characters here in your land," he said. "If you've no objection, lad, I believe I would like to watch _Peter Pan_."

_Notes__:_

_-So it looks like Guinevere ruined Morgana's carefully laid grab for power. It's pretty safe to say Morgana's got a few more things up her sleeve._

_-I had intended to have the New York part of the chapter be nothing more than fluff, but Hook had other ideas. He decided to use the dinner to his advantage—as an opportunity to try to convince Henry, the truest believer. From Henry's reaction to his stories, I think he was at least partially successful. Did you like the interaction between Hook and Henry?_

_-Up next: One year ago in the Enchanted Forest, Robin Hood and the folks from Storybrooke swap stories. Robin Hood is quite interested in Regina…until he finds out exactly who she is. Let's just say he's had a nasty run-in with the Evil Queen in the past. In present day New York. Emma has a dream where she remembers a certain kiss in Neverland. Henry gets back several of his memories and insists he and Emma go see Killian. The three of them go out and play in the snow….with nearly tragic results._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Enchanted Forest, 1 year ago_

Robin Hood placed a serving of chimera on Roland's plate, and then handed the platter to the lovely dark haired woman sitting on his son's right. His hand brushed hers, and her startled brown eyes came to meet his. Robin smiled gently at the woman, and she returned the gesture then turned to help his little boy cut his meat.

Who was she? Neal had introduced most of the others who sat at his table. Snow White and Prince Charming, the prince and princess of this realm. He was entertaining royalty! The infamous Captain Hook. A number of the dispossessed residents of the Fairy Havens. Quite a motley assembly at his board this evening, but then he was no stranger to motley assemblies. His merry men came from all social stations, all professions, all ages. With the addition of Mulan, they even came from both sexes.

"We first attempted to go to the palace," Prince Charming said reaching for his water goblet, "but it is obviously inhabited by someone, and from the looks of the fairies who came up against his henchmen, that someone is less than friendly."

"Quite true," Robin answered. He glanced back at his boy and the lady. Roland laughed at something the lady had said, and she gave him a slightly wistful smile.

"Yeah," Neal said, "What's the deal there, Robin? I was here less than a month ago and things were totally different."

"We have been over-run," Robin answered turning toward Neal. "Scarcely a fortnight ago, a woman came to the Enchanted Forest claiming to be the Wicked Witch of the West."

"The Wicked Witch of the West?" the dark haired woman asked, looking up from his son. "Who's that? I've never heard of anyone by that title before."

"I know not, my lady," Robin answered, "but she is clearly possessed of the darkest magic."

"What has she done?" Snow White asked. "We passed several villages that were completely destroyed."

"She had no more than arrived before she sent her henchmen, her flying monkeys, from village to village," Robin said, turning to hold up his goblet for his servant who refilled it with wine. "They insisted everyone meet before the palace for further instruction. Some refused. They were rounded up, their homes and belongings put to the torch."

"What happened to them, the people the Witch rounded up?" Neal asked.

Robin Hood looked around the table grimly and then glanced significantly at his son. They boy appeared to be paying little attention to the conversation of the adults, but it wouldn't do to scare him. His lad was far too perceptive for his own good.

"Most were imprisoned in the palace's dungeons," Robin answered with a grimace, "but some were…well suffice it to say they were not so fortunate."

"One woman and an army of flying, talking monkeys?" Charming asked in confusion. "With such a small force, how did this Wicked Witch of the West manage to cow so many people and decimate so many villages?"

"As I said, your majesty," Robin Hood stated, "she is possessed of the darkest of dark magic. She is well able to control as many people as she chooses."

"What did she want with the people she assembled before the palace?" the dark haired woman asked.

"She declared herself the ruler of the Enchanted Forest," Robin Hood answered.

"Over my dead body!" the woman muttered with a sneer.

"Let us hope that won't be necessary, my lady," Robin said with a nod in her direction. "The Witch demanded heavy taxation from all within the realm. She evidently intends to make improvements on the palace, turn it into a veritable fortress. After that is completed, who's to know what she's planning?"

"But many of our people are poor as it is!" Snow White said angrily. "They can't afford to pay heavy taxation!"

"Indeed," Robin Hood said with an inclination of his head, "And my companions and I have done all in our power to relieve the suffering of those within the villages. We've made many raids on the Witch's henchmen, stolen back her tax money and returned it to those most in need of it."

"You've done well," Charming said spearing a bite of roasted potato on his fork. "And now that we've returned, we will take back the palace and return the realm to peace and prosperity."

"I would caution patience, your majesty," Robin Hood said. "The witch has stronger magic than I've ever seen. It would be folly to attack without being thoroughly prepared."

"We shall prepare then," Captain Hook said with a grim look, "but make no mistake. We shall triumph over this Witch."

"My companions and I are, of course, at your service," Robin Hood stated.

The dinner went on long into the night. There was much to discuss, but when Robin noticed his son nodding off at the table, he decided it was time to excuse himself.

"I must ask you all to forgive me," Robin said getting to his feet, "but I must get my poor little man to bed. He's clearly exhausted."

"Oh, let me help him!" the dark-haired woman said earnestly. "I…had a son that I had to leave suddenly. Your Roland reminds me of him."

Robin was surprised to see tears in her beautiful brown eyes. This woman had struck him as being so strong, so tough.

"If it would not be an inconvenience, my lady," he assented.

"On the contrary," she said helping the little boy to his feet, "it would be a comfort to me."

Robin Hood saw Snow White and Prince Charming share a sad look. Clearly there was a story here. Could he convince his companions to share it? Robin watched as the dark haired woman led his son out of the great hall and then turned back to his dining companions.

"I've apprised you of the developments here in the Enchanted Forest," Robin Hood said finally, "but I must admit to being curious about you. What happened to bring you here?"

Robin Hood's dinner guests took turns explaining their adventures of the last month from their rescue of Henry to Pan recasting the original curse and all points in between.

"I'm still a bit confused," Robin admitted, "how did you return? You had no way to create a portal."

"Regina destroyed the original curse, and we were all transported back here," Snow White said sadly, "or rather all of us but my daughter and grandson."

"Regina?" Robin asked in confusion.

"Aye," Hook said, "the lass who is tending to your lad."

Robin turned toward the entrance to the great hall, still perplexed. "But how could Regina destroy the curse?" He asked. "I was under the impression a curse could only be destroyed by the one who cast it. The curse was cast by the evil queen."

"You are correct," Charming stated. "Regina is the very evil queen who cursed the Enchanted Forest so many years ago."

The beautiful dark-haired woman was the evil queen? No! It couldn't be! Robin closed his eyes and he was transported back to that awful day so many years ago.

_ Robin Hood looked up when he heard the knock on their cabin door. Marian sat knitting in her chair by the fire, the swell of her belly making the task distinctly awkward. His lady still lacked the bloom he would like to see on her cheeks, but she was infinitely improved ever since he had successfully stolen the Dark One's wand._

_ Marian laid down her knitting and started to get up._

_ "Don't trouble yourself, my love," Robin said quickly getting to his feet. "I'll see to our visitor."_

_ He opened the door to find himself face to face with Friar Tuck, the jovial cleric of his band of merry men. The rotund man looked anything but jovial now. Robin Hood quickly stepped outside._

_ "What troubles you, Tuck?" he asked in a low voice._

_ "A tragedy, I'm afraid," Friar Tuck said with a slight shake to his voice. "The evil queen and her men have been scouring the countryside for Snow White once again."_

_ "And they've caught her?" Robin Hood asked in alarm._

_ "Nay," Friar Tuck said, "to the best of my knowledge, the rightful princess is as safely hidden as ever. It's…" The man seemed to struggle to find words._

_ "What?" Robin asked impatiently. "What's happened."_

_ The large friar swallowed hard. "The queen made her way to the village of Nottingham. She demanded the people tell her Snow White's whereabouts. When none stepped forward to help her, she…"_

_ "She what?" Robin Hood asked sharply. Nottingham was Marian's village. All that was left of her family lived there!_

_ "She ordered her soldiers to put every last man, woman and child of the village to the sword," Tuck finally said._

_ "No!" came the agonized cry from within the cabin. Marian must have heard the news._

_ Robin Hood ran forward. She was not strong enough for a shock like this! Bursting through the door, Robin Hood entered the cabin just in time to see his lady wife fall to the ground in a faint. Running to her, Robin took her into his arms and carried her to their bed. Blood poured from her skirts and seeped into the bedding. Something was wrong! Something was terribly wrong!_

_ "Tuck!" Robin called frantically. The friar often acted as healer for the outlaw band. He could put Marian to rights! Friar Tuck ran forward, surprisingly light on his feet for a man so large. As he examined Marian, she awoke and began screaming._

_ "She's gone into labor," Tuck said rolling up his sleeves and preparing to get to work._

_ "Nay!" Robin shouted. "It's too soon. The babe is not due to be born for another month!"_

_ Friar Tuck gave him a sympathetic look. "I'll do all I can, Robin," he said, "but I must caution ye. Things look rather dire."_

_ A few hours later, it was all over. Robin sat in his Marion's chair, his head in his hands. He was numb, couldn't seem to feel a thing. It felt surreal. Eventually the events of the night would catch up to him and the blinding ripping pain would set in, but for now he couldn't even take it in._

_Ten minutes past, Marian's screaming had finally, mercifully come to an end. She'd been delivered of a tiny baby boy…and had slipped away before even being able to hear her wee lad's first cry. It couldn't be. It simply couldn't. His gentle, beautiful Marion was dead. His tiny frail son was motherless._

"Are you alright, Robin?" Snow White asked with some concern.

Was he? He hardly knew how to answer that question. All he knew was that he had just dined with the evil queen…the woman who had made him a widower. He would never forget her wickedness, no matter how beautiful she was, no matter how tenderly she treated his son!

_New York, present day_

_ Emma wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned back toward the pirate. "Did you really save his life?" she asked._

_ He was turned away from her, embarrassed, almost bashful._

_ "That surprise you?" he asked looking at her and then quickly away again._

_ She walked forward and handed him the flask, her eyes boring into him, looking for the lies he was trying to conceal. What was his ulterior motive? He must have one; he was a pirate after all. "Well, you and David aren't exactly, how do you say it? 'mates'."_

_ His eyes connected with hers again, briefly. "Doesn't mean I'd leave your father here to perish on this island."_

_ She could see the sincerity in his face. "Thank you," she said firmly._

_ He looked down, scratched behind his ear. Then that pirate gleam, two parts rogue and one part pure seduction was in his eye. Tucking his chin, he looked up at her through heavily lidded eyes._

_ "Perhaps gratitude is in order now," he said in a low, intimate tone. He tapped his lips, wreathed with a flirtatious grin that started her heart racing wildly against her ribcage…not that she'd ever let him see that._

_ She grinned back; she couldn't help herself. "Yeah," she said, "that's what the 'thank you' was for." Was she actually _flirting_ with him?_

_ "Hm," he stepped forward, so close she could feel the heat from his body. His suggestive little smile was driving her slowly mad, "is that all your father's life is worth to you?"_

_ "Please," she whispered, her smile still in place, "you couldn't handle it."_

_ He leaned in even closer. "Perhaps _you're_ the one who couldn't handle it."_

_ He waited, watching her, daring her, challenging her. The rational, sensible part of her screamed for her to put a stop to this. She should turn and walk away; put some distance between them. But the wild, impulsive part urged her forward. This desire, this need had been growing between them ever since they got to this island…maybe even before that. She suddenly had to test it, explore it. Maybe if she gave in this one single time the tension would be relieved once and for all._

_ And he had challenged her. She didn't back down from a challenge._

_ Savagely forcing down her more rational part, Emma surged forward, grabbed the lapel of his leather coat as though it were her life preserver in the midst of a violent storm at sea, and nearly devoured his mouth with her own._

_ Sensations exploded. The taste of rum on his lips, his breath mingled with hers, his hand tangled in her hair, her fingers weaving through the silken strands of his, the cold steel of his hook at her back, their heads turning this way and that trying to get closer, closer. Had she thought this would sate the fire? She couldn't get enough. She would never get enough!_

_ Her heart hammered. Love strong and powerful surged through her body. _Love?_ No! No, she did not, would not love this man! It took everything within her, but she ripped her lips from his. She needed to get some space, but try as she might, she couldn't pull back from him. She leaned her forehead against his._

_ They were both breathing hard. "That was.." he whispered._

_ Her lips moved back toward his, like a moth drawn to a flame. Everything within her screamed for the kiss to continue, but she couldn't let it happen!_

_ "A one-time thing," she whispered, forcing herself to step back. If she didn't walk away, _now_, there was no telling where this would end up. _

Emma woke with a gasp. Her heart raced. That was the most realistic dream she'd ever experienced! She could almost taste the rum on her lips, feel the pressure of Killian's mouth against hers. God help her!

Emma surged to her feet and padded toward the kitchen. It was still dark outside, but she wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight, she was sure of that. Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, she downed half of it in one gulp.

Surely _that_ hadn't been a memory! There is no way on earth or any other planet she could have forgotten a kiss like that!

Emma flipped on the TV. The weatherman was talking excitedly about the snowstorm they'd had over night. A foot of snow. Emma hadn't even known it was going to storm. Hm. It looked like Henry would be getting a snow day. The kid would be excited.

Her mind flitted back over the night before. She'd listened as the guys decided on a movie for the evening.

"What do you say we watch _Peter Pan_, lad?" Killian had asked.

Henry had hesitated. She was a bit surprised. It had been one of his favorite movies up until around a year or so ago. Then he'd suddenly, inexplicably hated everything to do with Neverland.

"I don't know, Killian," Henry said. "That movie kind of gives me the creeps."

Killian had looked sympathetic, "Aye lad," he'd said gently, "I expect it would. Would it be too difficult for you to watch?"

What a strange thing to ask!

"No," Henry said finally, "I guess not. I'll go get some popcorn. Can you put the DVD in?"

"Er," Killian had hesitated, "What's a DVD, lad?"

What's a DVD? What planet had this guy been living on?

"I'll get the popcorn, kid," Emma had called from the kitchen. "You go ahead and get the movie ready."

When Emma had made her way to the living room, big bowl of popcorn in hand, the opening credits were just starting. Henry sat in his favorite chair underneath the window. Killian sat on the left side of the love seat. That only left her one seating option…beside the handsome pirate.

As Emma walked into the room, Killian gave her a lazy grin and patted the seat beside him. She felt her face flame. Was it getting hot in here? She sat beside him, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible…to preserve her sanity. She couldn't remember ever being this strongly, quickly, or completely affected by any man before!

Watching _Peter Pan_ with Killian had been an experience! He had been so…_offended_…at the portrayal of Captain Hook.

"This is revisionist history if ever I saw it!" he had blustered. "They make the good captain out to be a tyrannical buffoon!"

"Well, Killian," she'd answered, "he is after all the villain."

A shadow had passed over Killian's face at that. Why? "Perhaps so," he'd said sliding his arm along the back of the loveseat, "but a man can change, can he not?"

"I guess so," she said looking into his earnest face. "But…I mean…it's just a fairy tale. A cartoon fairy tale."

"There's far more truth to the old fairy tales than you might ever imagine, love," he'd said, looking intently into her face. He wanted her to understand something; she could see that. But what?

"Yeah," Henry said from his seat to the left. Emma had almost forgotten he was there. "Peter Pan's all wrong too."

"What do you mean?" she asked. She didn't like that troubled tone in his voice.

"I don't know why," Henry said slowly, "but I have this feeling Pan isn't a good guy. Like he's…I don't know…evil."

"Indeed lad," Killian said, "he's a bloody demon."

Henry had looked over at Killian then, an assessing look in his eyes. "Captain Hook lost his left hand…just like you."

"Aye, lad," Killian had said, "that he did."

"Did a crocodile eat your hand, too?" Henry asked.

"I've no idea what the Crocodile did with my hand."

This was by far the strangest conversation she'd been a part of…well, at least since the last conversation she'd had with Killian.

"Hey Mom!" Emma was abruptly pulled back to the present by her son's excited voice as he rushed toward her in the kitchen.

"Yeah, kid?" she asked taking a sip of her coffee.

"Did we get a snow day today?" he asked eagerly.

"Yep," she answered smoothing a strand of his hair that was standing on end, "No school today."

"Perfect," he said, "we've got to go find Killian. I remember! I remember everything!"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook laughed as he watched Henry whiz by on his sled, jump up and then run back to the top of the hill. When he'd awoken this morning, he'd had no idea he would be spending his day playing with his love and her son. But it was a far better use of the day than he could have ever planned.

Early that morning, he'd heard a knock at Baelfire's door. Rising quickly, he'd donned his attire and made his way to the door. Nothing could have prepared him for the delightful shock of finding _her_ standing there. Beautiful, rosy-cheeked from the cold, her hair beneath her cap pleasantly tousled. She was glorious. She'd sought him out; his Emma had come to him!

She must have seen something of his thoughts on his face; she turned suddenly bashful. "Sorry to barge in on you like this," she said walking inside as he stepped back for her, "but the kid insisted on talking to you."

He noticed Henry for the first time. There was a new look in the lad's eyes this morning.

"You are welcome here, my lady," he said with a slight bow. "Always."

"Yeah," she said shrugging out of her hat and coat, "well, Henry wanted to…"

"I remember, Killian!" Henry burst out excitedly.

He remembered? It was amazing news! If he'd convinced the son, it was only a matter of time before the mother remembered as well.

"How much?" Hook asked.

"Everything!"

They'd talked for some time, Henry sharing memory after memory. Emma sat in stony, skeptical silence. This must have been what she'd been like when Henry tried to convince her before. A frown marred his Emma's lovely face, and Hook knew she was nearing her breaking point. It was time for a change of subject.

"What do you say we enjoy this glorious snow, lad?" he asked. "There is a hill a short walk hence that would be perfect for sledding."

And so here they were, half an hour later enjoying the splendors of winter. Well, some of them were. His lady seemed to be resolutely unimpressed with Mother Nature's loveliness this morning. Standing beside him, his Emma shivered and huddled deeper into her winter coat. "Maybe he'll get tired of sledding soon," she said hopefully.

"And then what, love?" he asked with a smile, "snowmen? Snow angels?"

A shadow passed across her face and there was undeniable hurt in her eyes. The lass didn't merely dislike snow, she positively hated it.

"I've made snow angels a grand total of one time in my life," she said, a small quiver in her voice. "I have no intention of ever making them again."

"What's wrong, Swan?" he asked, turning her toward him. For a moment he was sure she wouldn't answer. Emma was a consummate master at holding in her emotions.

"I was six years old," she said softly, staring sightlessly at the snow near his feet. "It was the night before the worst day of my entire life. The next morning…"

Henry went whooshing past. Too fast. Far too fast! He was heading straight for the partially frozen lake. Hook gently moved Emma aside and began running. He reached the edge of the lake just as the boy skidded past the firm ice at the lake's edge and crashed through the thin ice in the middle.

"_Henry_!" her voice was panicked, terrified, "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

She ran toward the lake, beyond reason, beyond logic. Hook roughly grabbed her shoulder and turned her away from the lake.

"He fell through the ice!" she said fighting against his hand, "let me go! We have to save him."

He caught her eye. "We will, love," he said firmly, "I swear it to you. I need your help. Bring me a tree branch."

She seemed to snap out of her desperation. Nodding her head, she turned and sprinted away. He rushed toward the lake, dropped to his belly and cautiously crawled forward. Henry surfaced, yelled in panic and then went back under.

"Here!" Emma thrust a large branch into his good hand. How was he to pull the lad out one-handed? If ever there was a time he missed his hook this was it!

He extended the branch forward until its end extended toward the middle of the hole Henry had fallen through. "Grab the branch, lad!" he shouted, "Grab it!"

Henry surfaced again, grasped the branch, and then lost his hold. He went under again. Emma screamed. _Come on lad! Come on!_

Henry surfaced one last time and grasped the branch. This time he had it! Hook began to pull, but it was nearly impossible with only one hand. In a moment Emma was lying beside him, pulling with him.

They had him! Henry was shivering violently, his breath coming in gasps, but they had saved him!

"We've got to get him home!" Emma said, "We've got to get him warmed up."

"Bring him to Neal's abode," Hook said throwing his coat over Henry, gathering the boy into his arms and breaking into a run, "it is far closer."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

An hour later, Henry sat before a roaring fire swaddled in layer after layer of Neal's clothing. It was far too large for the boy, of course, but it was far superior to his frozen, wet clothing.

Emma turned toward Killian. Grateful couldn't begin to express it. She owed her son's life to this man!

"Killian," she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes, "how can I ever thank you? You saved him!"

His beautiful blue eyes flamed. "Emma, my love" he said earnestly, "there is not a single, solitary thing in this world or any other that I would not do for you."

Her heart swelled. Reaching up she brought his face down to hers. Their lips met and he growled deep in his throat. Wrapping his arms around her, he deepened the kiss. This was heaven. This was _home_. There was far more than attraction here between them; there was…

The images began flooding in, one on top of the other. Henry coming to her apartment in Boston. Storybrooke. Her feud with Regina. David, Mary Margaret. Henry eating the poisoned apple turn-over. Breaking the curse. The Enchanted Forest. Neverland. Pan's curse.

And him. This incredible man in her arms! She pulled away.

"Hook!"

_Notes__:_

_-I'm a little earlier getting this chapter done than normal (ok, I'm a little earlier getting it written and posted to my doc manager. Manage Stories is being a little more intransigent and keeps giving me an error message, so who knows how long it will be before my update goes up), and you can thank Winter Storm Ion for that. I'm snowed in, my workplace is closed, and the authorities are threatening to ticket anyone out on the roads. So what better way is there to spend my snow-day than to write about everyone's favorite pirate and princess?_

_-So there is trouble in paradise right away for Robin Hood and Regina. Don't worry, I doubt it's insurmountable! I think the best love stories are those that overcome major obstacles before getting their happily ever after. _

_-It seems to me that over the past season or so, Regina's really grown and changed. She's no longer really the "evil queen," however she has done some really terrible things throughout her life. I wanted to see her have to deal with some of the ramifications of her past actions. I wanted to have her see what her hatred has done to others…and find some real repentance, remorse, and ultimate healing._

_-In New York…the memory charm is broken! I wanted to have Emma's restored memories mirror Snow White's as much as possible. If you'll recall, Prince Charming's true love's kiss didn't work on Snow when she'd lost her memories. She only got her memories back when she kissed him out of gratitude and growing feelings. For Snow, her gratitude came because Charming put her first, showed himself to be willing to take an arrow for her. For Emma, Henry's been her focus, her whole life for much of the last couple of seasons. I thought Hook saving Henry's life would be the perfect impetus to make Emma kiss him. Speaking of which…how did you like that I slipped in two kisses in one chapter?_

_-Wow, this story is shaping up to be nearly novel length! Up next: Long long ago in Camelot, King Arthur and Lady Guinevere marry. A seer shows up at the wedding feast, grants them a rather impressive gift…and makes a prophecy about a dark force that will take over Camelot and a knight and his lady fair who will ultimately defeat said dark force (I'm sure none of you can guess who that knight and lady might be, lol!). In present day New York, Emma remembers and Hook tells her about the dangers her family face._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Camelot, long, long ago_

"I now pronounce you man and wife." And with that Morgana's last hope of stopping the wedding came to an end. It wasn't for lack of trying on her part. Morgana had poured over her spell book for hours looking for an incantation or potion that might succeed at tearing Arthur and Guinevere apart, but to no avail. She had found instructions for concocting a potion of forgetfulness, but how was she to administer it? The spell book had been quite clear in the potion's use. In order for it to be effective, it had to be expressly requested by one of the people trying to forget.

True love really was the strongest magic. It seemed only death could defeat it…and sometimes not even that. Oh, Morgana certainly considered murder, but it was truly a groundless daydream. After all, there was little chance she, a pauper, would be allowed close enough to the bride-elect to kill her. Besides that, her magic was not nearly strong enough yet. She hadn't yet succeeded in killing so much as a mosquito. She'd tried on more than one occasion when the offending insects were particularly irksome, but the worst she'd been able to do was cause one to lose a wing.

A great cheer rang throughout the palace chapel as King Arthur kissed his new bride. A second burst of applause went up when the king presented the new Queen Guinevere. She did look rather lovely, Morgana conceded. Guinevere was nothing to Morgana, of course, but it was a wonder what expensive clothing and the ministration of maids could do. The queen wore a snow white silken kirtle, low at the waist and with long flowing sleeves. Her light brown hair, crowned with a garland of white roses and ribbon, hung loose and curly to her waist.

Morgana got to her feet and followed the rest of the assembly out of the church and into the great hall which was grandly decorated for the wedding feast.

"Isn't it grand, Morgana?" Mordred asked as he seated his sister at a small table near the back of the hall.

Morgana looked up at the young man. "Aye," she conceded, "grand enough."

"Most kind of King Arthur to invite all of Camelot to the feast, wasn't it?" Mordred continued.

"Oh aye," Morgana answered bitterly, "kind of him to lord it over the rest of us; show all of us peasants the life we're missing."

"Oh come on, Morgana," he said with a roll of his brown eyes, "Arthur won't be one to lord it over everyone. He came from most humble roots himself."

"Wake up, Mordred!" Morgana said irritably. "Ye're far too naïve! He'll change, mark my words."

The great hall rang with conversation and laughter. The entire kingdom seemed to be having a grand time. Suddenly a hush fell over the assembly followed by an excited buzz. Morgana craned her neck forward looking for the cause of the disturbance. A young woman walked slowly and deliberately through the assembly right up to the dais where the newly married couple feasted. The girl certainly presented a singular appearance. She was dirty and wore tattered clothing. Her hair hung tangled and limp against her shoulders.

But it wasn't the girl's slovenliness that caused the most amazement to the residents of Camelot. Her eyelids were sown shut over empty sockets. Her hands were extended before her, startlingly blue eyes shown from the middle of her palms.

"'Tis a seer!" whispered a woman that the next table.

A seer? Well, this could prove quite interesting.

The woman walked to the dais and stood before Arthur and Guinevere.

"I am a seer," she said in an ethereal voice, "come from the Enchanted Forest. I wish to offer you congratulation on your nuptials."

"You are welcome, my lady," King Arthur said in his clear tenor voice, "might we offer you some refreshment after your long journey?"

"A cup of cold water would be most welcome, your highness," the seer replied.

Moments later a page handed the woman a goblet. She took a quick sip, and then dropped the goblet with a cry. King Arthur shot to his feet.

"What is amiss, my lady?" he asked with concern. The seer stepped back, raised her hands, and stared at the king and queen from her palms.

"Your love has blest the whole kingdom of Camelot," the seer said, "the very water that flows through your land has imbibed the magic of your love. All who drink the waters of this land will be blest with long life. Ten years for you will be as a day to all others."

An excited murmur passed as a wave through the crowd. Morgana felt her heart leap at the seer's words. An abnormally long life? It was a boon she'd not even thought to wish for. To what heights could she rise if she were to live two hundred…even three hundred years?

After a moment, the seer continued. "My prophecy for Camelot is this. Peace and prosperity will reign throughout the land for many years. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere will gain the love and adoration of all within the land. With the aid of his loyal knights of the Round Table, King Arthur will insure that justice will reign supreme."

The great hall rang with the cheers and shouts.

"But the time of plenty will come to an end," she continued. A hush fell over the assembly once more. "A dark force will rise up against the king. The Round Table will fall and the dark force will be victorious."

"Nay!" Arthur shouted in alarm, "Say it's not so, lady!"

The seer continued as though there had been no interruption. "But all is not yet lost. A valiant knight will arrive from the east along with his flaxen-haired lady fair. When their hearts and talismans are knit together with the bonds of deepest, truest love, they will be the key that unlocks the fetters of Camelot. Then the dark force shall be thrown down, and peace and joy shall reign throughout Camelot forever."

Morgana got to her feet muttered an excuse to Mordred and headed for the door. The cool night air cooled felt heavenly against her flushed cheeks. Elation such as she hadn't felt in years flooded every fiber of her being. A dark force would take control from King Arthur? Who could that dark force be but her? It was going to happen! She was going to be more powerful than anyone could have ever imagined! And as for the threat of the "valiant knight and his lady fair," well, she would neutralize that threat whenever it appeared.

_New York, present day_

"Hook!" Hook took in the lass's wide eyes and flushed cheeks. She remembered? She actually remembered?

"Aye love," he said with a soft smile.

"You found me!" she said in an astonished voice.

"Does that surprise you?" he asked trying to tamp down the disappointment. Always the skepticism.

She ran a hand through her hair and looked away. Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes once again. "It's just…" she said slowly. "It's just that I'm not used to people putting me first. I'm the savior. I'm the one who's supposed to save everyone else. My happiness, my well-being always sacrificed to the greater good."

There was pain in her voice. Deep hurt and…something close to hopelessness. He felt her pain within his own heart.

"Come here, lass," he said opening his arms. She stepped into them, burying her head in his shoulder, her arms tightening around his waist. His good hand cupped her head and he closed his eyes, feeling the treacherous threat of tears at the back of his throat. It had been so long! So very, very long! For 365 long, endless days he'd been without her. He'd thought he'd never see her again, and the pain had nearly destroyed him!

He held her tightly, so tightly he was afraid he was hurting her, but she made no complaint. If anything, she clung even tighter. How could he ever let her go? How had he ever let her drive away from him that day last year?

"Emma, love," he said against the fragrant mass of her hair, "nothing could have kept me from you."

She pulled away slightly but remained within the circle of his arms. "But Hook," she said wrinkling her brow, "_how_ did you come back for me? How did you create a portal? Why did no one else come back? Wait…did you say my family's in trouble? What's going on?"

The lass was getting more and more agitated by the moment. Henry, obviously hearing the anxiety in his mother's voice, shot a startled look in their direction.

"Not to worry lad," Hook called over his shoulder. "Nothing your mum and I cannot sort out." The lad turned back toward the fire and took another sip of his hot chocolate

"Aye, love," he said steering his Emma toward a sofa on the opposite side of the apartment. "Your parents are in danger, and it is that very danger that led me to seek you out."

"What's wrong," she asked in a hard voice.

"When we returned to the Enchanted Forest," he said gently, "we found it overrun by a foe more dangerous and deadly than we could have imagined."

"Worse than Pan?" she asked skeptically.

"Perhaps equally bad," Hook answered with a slight quirk of his lips.

She sighed in obvious frustration. "Is it too much to ask for a nice normal, boring life?" she asked sharply. "You know one where the worst you have to deal with is an annoying neighbor? Ever since I found my family it's been one danger, one villain, one separation after another!"

"Well love," he said gently, "you did have this past year with your son."

"Yeah," she said with a sigh, "I guess I did, but…I don't know…something was missing. I guess somewhere deep down I still felt the loss of my parents, of my friends."

_Of you_. She hadn't said it, but he saw it in her face.

"So what nasty villain is trying to destroy my family now?" Emma asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

"The Wicked Witch of the West," Hook answered.

The lass rolled her eyes. "I should have known we'd be meeting up with Oz sometime or other. What has she done?"

"She's imprisoned your parents and threatens to do the same to anyone else who stands in her way," Hook answered.

"Lovely," she said. "Did you say it's up to us…you and me…to save the Enchanted Forest?"

"Aye, lass," he said taking her hand. "There is an ancient prophecy about the downfall of evil within Fairy Tale Land. The prophecy states that a knight and his lady fair will return to the land, and they will provide the key to the destruction of that evil."

"Ok," she said drawing out the single word, "but what does that have to do with you or me?"

Hook hesitated. Was she ready to hear the whole of the prophecy? Did she love him? Was she ready to admit that love? Hook hated to pressure the lass. True love couldn't be manufactured; it couldn't be coerced. He wanted Emma's heart…more than he could remember ever wanting anything in his life, but he wanted her to give it to him freely, of her own accord, not because some prophecy said she must.

"Love," he finally said somewhat evasively, "I have reason to believe the prophecy refers to you and me."

"Us?" she asked in surprise, "You're the knight and I'm your lady fair?"

"Aye," he answered.

"Yeah, I'm not exactly the 'lady fair' type," she said skeptically.

"You are as fair as any lady I've ever seen, love," Hook said with a smile.

Her cheeks flamed but a soft smile lit her face.

OK," she said after a moment, "I guess I am the savior, why can't I also be a lady fair? So what do we need to do to save the world this time?"

_Notes__:_

-_Two updates to my story in one day? This is what happens when you get two snow days from work due to the snow-pocalypse that was Winter Storm Ion. Nearly a foot of snow and a temperature of 14 below when I woke up this morning? I decided the best way to deal with my cabin fever was to write, so here you go._

_-So, basically the point of this chapter was to introduce the prophecy. It's up to Emma and Hook and their true love to defeat both the Wicked Witch of the West and Morgana Le Fay. Will their love be strong enough to save the Enchanted Forest? (If you don't know the answer to that question, I may have to seriously question your intelligence!)_

_-Up next: 1 year ago in the Enchanted Forest, Hook has a dream about the future…is it a prophetic dream or merely wishful thinking? He decides to channel his pain into helping those Emma loves. In present day New York, Hook and Emma have to find a way back to the Enchanted Forest. Before he left to get back to our world, Hook was instructed that in order to open another portal, he would need to find a certain object…an object Emma remembers from her childhood in the home of the Smiths. It looks like a road trip to Boston is in order._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_Enchanted Forest, 1 year ago_

_Hook opened the front door and stepped into the waiting warmth. It had been a long day and he was tired._

_ "Papa!" a little girl with unruly blonde curls threw herself at him. Hook reached down and scooped the little one into his arms, swinging her around. The lass laughed delightedly._

_ "Papa, you're so late tonight," she said with a little kittenish pout, "Mama was about to put me to bed without seeing you!"_

_ Hook kissed the silken cheek and ruffled the hair no amount of brushing seemed capable of taming. Of course his little Rose would rarely consent to sit still long enough for her mother to brush it. She had her mama's spirit and fire, this one did! Only three years old and she already led them a merry chase. Hook grinned, loving both his feisty ladies._

_ "Well, we couldn't have that, now could we poppet?" he said with a grin._

_ "Will you tell me a story before bed?" Rose asked, "Please?"_

_ "We shall see, little one," he said setting her down and walking toward the sitting room where he was sure to find his wife and wee lad. He stopped in the doorway of the comfortable room and took in the sight before him._

_ His Emma sat in a rocking chair before the blazing fire. She hummed softly while their infant son nursed at her breast. One of little Liam's tiny hands was tangled in the lass's blonde hair, and she tilted her head to the side to give him better access. This surely was what heaven looked like. Hook's heart swelled with love and contentment. How he had been blessed!_

_ Rose ran into the room. "Papa's home! Papa's home!" she announced as she skipped around her mother's chair. _

_ Emma looked up at him and smiled. "Long day?"_

_ "Aye," he said walking forward, "but it's good to be home love. Henry staying with Regina tonight?"_

_ "Yeah," Emma said closing her blouse and gently rubbing Liam's back. Robin's away for the night, so Henry's keeping her company."_

_ Hook stooped down to place a quick kiss on his wife's lips and ruffle his son's downy hair. The infant smiled up at him._

_ "Here" she said handing Liam up to his father, "I need to get Rose ready for bed."_

_ "Not bed yet, Mama!" Rose wailed, "I'm not sleepy."_

_ "Not buying it, kid," Emma said, patting the little girl on the head. "You were cranky all afternoon until your daddy got home. It is definitely time for bed."_

_ "But Mama!" Rose started again._

_ "Now Rosie mine, don't give your mama any trouble," Hook said trying…and failing…to look the part of the stern father. "If you are a good lass, I'll be in in a moment to tell you a story."_

_ "An exciting one from when you were a pirate?" she asked hopefully._

_ "The last time your dad told you one of his pirate tales you had nightmares," Emma said giving Hook a pointed look._

_ "Perhaps something a bit less harrowing would be best, lass," Hook said. "Have you ever heard the tale of the first quest your mother and I took? A thrilling tale that, with a beanstalk and a giant and a compass. Alas, it did end with me in handcuffs. At one time your mother was quite fond of putting me in handcuffs."_

_ Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes but she couldn't keep the grin from her face. And why not grin? It was the first chapter of their epic love story, a story that he hoped had many, many chapters left to be written._

Someone snored and then muttered in his sleep, and Hook woke abruptly. It was dark still; only the faintest sliver of light was beginning to paint the eastern sky. Hook was disoriented at first and couldn't remember where he was or why.

Then it all rushed back over him like a tide. The pain and despair that had been a daily part of his life for more years than he cared to count had ebbed during the last few glorious weeks with Emma, but now it assaulted him with more violence than it ever had before. There was a new grief today to add to the old familiar ache of losing his love. Today he felt like he'd not only lost his love, he felt like he'd lost his whole family, Emma and all the children that could have been born to them.

The dream had been so real, so vivid. He'd dreamt of Milah, of course, over the long, endless years he had fought to avenge her. But he'd never dreamt of the children they might have had. In truth, he'd never even thought of having a family with his first love. She had been wild and free and adventurous, not the mothering type.

But Emma was. He thought of her love for Henry, her willingness to do anything for him. She would be an incredible mother. Any children raised by her would be fortunate indeed, and he ached to be the one to give her those children!

Hook groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He must distract himself or he would go mad with his grief. He looked around the great hall of the Crocodile's castle. Men lay here and there on sleeping pallets. He saw Baelfire on the far side of the hall and Robin Hood with his lad near the middle of the room. The others he didn't know, but they must be Robin Hood's men.

Hook carefully stepped around the sleeping men and made his way out of the hall. Charming and Snow had taken the master bedroom, they'd given the other sleeping chambers to the ladies, and the men had bedded down in the great hall.

It was his first full day back in the Enchanted Forest. What would he do today? No doubt the group would wish to hold a council to decide what was to be done about the Witch. He would be very interested in attending that council, but first he needed to walk and clear his head.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

The sun rose and streamed into the master bedroom bathing Charming in its warm glow. He swam slowly out of the depths of sleep. It was so comfortable, so peaceful. He turned over intending to throw his arm over Snow, but it landed on empty sheets. He sat up, wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked around.

She was standing at the window looking out, her silky white robe blowing about in the breeze from the partially open door. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, and she looked so…dejected. Charming got to his feet and wandered over, wrapping her in his strong embrace. She leaned back into him and put her hands over his.

"David," she said with a sigh, "I thought we were finally going to be a family. I was so convinced we'd all get back from Neverland, and then we could build our lives together. You, me, Emma, Henry."

He hugged her tighter. What was there to say? He doubted he could say anything over the lump that had formed in his throat anyway. He'd spent so little time with her, but he missed his little girl.

"We'll get back to her," Charming said finally. "There has to be a way. We got to Henry's world once, we can get there again."

Snow turned in his arms and rested her head against his chest. "We'll find her," she said.

"We'll always find her," Charming agreed with a smile. Snow pulled his face down for a kiss and then turned back toward the window.

"I saw Hook leave the castle early this morning," she said. "He seems so…despondent."

"He loves her too," Charming said.

She didn't answer.

"Maybe I better go find him, talk to him," Charming said.

Snow turned to look up at him again. "Why?"

He looked down into her big brown eyes and smiled gently. "Because I know how he feels. You and I have spent enough time separated. I know what it's like to be apart from your true love."

"True love?" she asked, her eyes widening. "You think _Hook_ is our daughter's true love?"

He shrugged. "I know that Hook truly loves our daughter. He gave up his revenge, sailed his ship back to the last place he ever wanted to go, saved my life, told us about Neal, and helped save Emma's son. He did it all for her. No man would do that…especially a pirate…if he wasn't truly in love."

"But David," Snow said in some agitation, "what about Neal? Emma told us she loves Neal."

Charming shrugged again, "I don't know," he said, "I don't think she's had enough down time lately to figure out how she feels about either of them."

"True love is strong, powerful and enduring," Snow said in a lecturing tone, "it stands the test of time. If Neal and Emma loved each other once, they'll always love each other."

He shook his head gently. "True love was easy for us," he said caressing her cheek, "we felt it from the very beginning. But I don't think it's ever been that simple for Emma. She's been deeply hurt, doesn't trust easily. I don't know what happened with Neal, but it was clearly painful for her. Too painful for her to move past? I don't know."

"Well," Snow said sadly, "I suppose Emma's love life is the least of our worries right now."

"True," Charming answered, "but after all the pirate did for us…for me in particular…I kind of feel like I owe him. I'm going to go give him some words of encouragement."

Snow wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "Is it any wonder I love you?"

Charming returned the hug. "Any ideas where he might have gone."

Snow thought for a moment and then nodded against his chest. "I'd be willing to bet I know exactly where he is."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook wandered around with no acknowledged destination, but it hardly surprised him where he ended up. This was where it all began; of course this would be where he felt most intensely connected to her.

The beanstalk looked much the same. Impossibly tall, thick brown vines, sparse green leaves. He thought back to that day months ago. He'd been so full of hate, so full of anger. But even in that state he'd noticed her; she'd intrigued him.

He wasn't a stranger to beautiful women. He was a handsome man, there was no use denying it, and he'd never had a shortage of feminine admirers. He liked women, enjoyed their company, but he'd never let one affect him. Never let another one get anywhere near his heart…not after Milah.

He'd perfected the art of outrageous flirtation. In a way, it was his method of keeping the lasses at arm's length. Should a lady start to get too close, all he needed to do was lay the innuendo on thick, and she would be rolling her eyes and walking away. He liked it that way.

But it had been different with Emma right from the start. He couldn't remain the charming rogue with her. She interested him. He didn't want to push her away…he wanted to pull her closer.

Perhaps it had been her determined silence as they climbed the beanstalk. Or the electric current that had passed through his entire body as he wrapped his scarf around her injured palm. Or the flawless way they worked together to get past the giant. Or the way his heart leapt when she'd pulled him into her arms to keep him from setting off the trip wire. Or the concern he'd felt…for her…when they'd heard the giant awaken and rush toward them. Or the beautiful sound of her panicked voice calling his name when the rocks had fallen from the ceiling.

But he hadn't realized he was in trouble, real substantial trouble, until she'd handcuffed him and left him to languish at the top of the beanstalk. He'd felt such betrayal, such hurt. He'd been absolutely sincere in his wish to help her...even if it delayed his own revenge a bit. Her distrust, her betrayal had cut him like a knife.

Looking back now, he couldn't blame the lass for her distrust. He had been a scoundrel, no mistaking that. How far he had fallen from his days in the royal navy!

"Snow said I would find you here," came her father's voice from behind him.

"A wise lass, that wife of yours," Hook said in a sad voice. He turned around to look at Charming.

"I know this sounds trite," Charming said, "but I know how you're feeling."

"Do you mate?" Hook asked listlessly.

"Yes," Charming answered decisively turning to absently finger a leave of the stalk. "Snow and I loved each other from the start, but it was one obstacle after another we had to overcome before we could be together."

"Aye," Hook said bitterly, "but she never forgot you, did she? She was never worlds away from you."

"Actually," Charming said turning back to Hook, "you're wrong on both counts. Early on, she went to Rumplestiltskin looking for a potion to forget me."

It figured the Crocodile would have a hand in it. Heartbreak was his specialty.

"What did you do?" Hook asked, interested despite himself, "how did you break the spell?"

Charming smiled to himself. Hook supposed he was remembering. "I first tried true love's kiss."

"Tried?" Hook asked. "It was unsuccessful?"

"Yep," Charming answered with a nod of his head.

"I was led to believe true love's kiss was the strongest magic in all the realms," Hook said in confusion.

"Yeah," Charming said, "but I found out it won't work if the lady in question doesn't remember you."

"So what broke the spell?" Hook asked.

"I sacrificed myself for her," Charming answered. "Took an arrow in the shoulder to keep her from destroying herself. In the end, it was her kissing me that broke the spell."

Hook had a delightful vision of himself traveling to her world, saving her, being pulled in for a kiss. But all too soon the vision dissipated.

"There is no longer any way to create a portal," Hook said in a pained voice. He paced a few steps away from Charming. "What point is there discussing ways to restore the lass's memory if there is no hope of reaching her again."

Charming clapped a strong hand on his shoulder. "What was it you said to me back in Neverland? 'If there's one thing I've learned from you hero types, it's that there's always hope.' You're one of us now. We'll find a way."

For the first time since he watched his love drive away from him in her yellow bug a spark of hope lit his eyes. "Do you really believe that mate?"

"To quote my lovely wife," Charming said, "who's probably the most hopeful person I know, 'If you love them and they love you, you will always find each other.'"

_New York, present day_

"So let me get this straight," Emma said skeptically, "the only way we can get back to the Enchanted Forest is if we find a vial of enchanted water that you have been assured is somewhere in this realm?"

"Aye lass," Hook said, "that is about the scope of things."

She blew out a breath. Hook could see her exasperation. "Do you have any idea how big the world is, Hook?" she asked, the pitch of her voice rising in her agitation. "We're supposed to find one tiny vial of water and we don't even know which continent it might be on? It's a needle in a haystack!"

The lass got up and started pacing. Truly, he hadn't considered how big of an undertaking it would be to get back to the Enchanted Forest. For the past several months, his whole world had consisted in nothing but finding his love and restoring her memories.

"Do you even know what this vial is supposed to look like?" she asked, her voice heavily laced with sarcasm.

"Aye," he said, watching her pace. "It will be small, not larger than a shot glass. It will be covered in an intricate, medieval design. A mighty broad sword with the drawing of a golden dragon on a red shield embossed on the hilt. A decorative letter 'G' on the opposite side."

Emma abruptly stopped pacing and dropped next to him on the couch. The eyes she raised to his were amazed, shocked.

"I've seen that vial before," she said in a small voice. "It's been years, but I know exactly where to start the search!"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma began pulling clothes out of her closet and throwing them on the bed. How long would they be away? Hard to say. If they were successful getting the enchanted water they would be heading to the Jolly Roger which would take them back to the Enchanted Forest. Who knows when, how, or if they would get back from there.

Emma pulled her hair back into a loose pony tail; it was getting in her way. Grabbing a large duffle bag, Emma started throwing items in. She tried not to think about all that had happened in the past couple of days…or of what was ahead of her, but the trepidation grew. Of all the places they might have had to go to get enchanted water, this was the last place she would have chosen.

Her mind flitted back to that day twenty-five years ago. She'd woken up so happy, fingered the necklace her foster father had given her. Then it had all changed. Mr. Smith had disappeared. No one knew what had happened to him. She remembered Mrs. Smith, frantic, calling everyone they knew, trying to convince the police to look for him. Tommy, white and scared, trying with everything in him not to cry.

For years as she was shuffled from one foster home to another she dreamed they would come back for her, dreamed they would even call her, write to her. But they never had. Now here she was, a thirty-year-old woman, but the prospect of going back to that house made her feel like she was still that scared, heart-broken six-year-old.

But go back to that house in a small town outside of Boston, she must, because that's where the vial of enchanted water was. She remembered it so vividly, sitting proudly on her foster father's desk in his study. He couldn't remember where he'd gotten it, but it was his prized possession. How on earth did down-to-earth small-town America construction worker Gary Smith come to be in possession of a vial of water from the Enchanted Forest?

Henry cleared his throat, and she looked up at him, standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Mom?" he asked tentatively. He shuffled from one foot to the other. Was he okay? Had he gotten hurt when he fell in the frozen pond?

"What is it, buddy?" she asked rushing over to him. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," he said drawing out the word and refusing to look at her.

"Are you worried about Regina and your grandparents?" she asked, at a loss to explain the kid's strange behavior. Normally he rarely stopped talking.

"No," he said, still not meeting her eyes, "well, okay a little, but that's not it."

Emma led him over to the bed and sat down beside him. "What is it, then Henry."

He finally looked up at her and there was a curious, almost accusatory look in his eyes. "You kissed Hook."

She took a quick breath. He wanted to talk about this _now_?

"Well, yeah kid," she said looking away, "I did." No use denying it. He'd seen her throwing herself at the pirate.

"Why?"

She wasn't sure she liked how blunt and direct her son could be sometimes.

"Well," she said, "I don't know. He saved your life. I was grateful. It just…happened."

It sounded lame, even to her own ears.

"And then you got your memories back," he continued, still looking troubled.

"Yeah…" this time she was the one drawing the syllable out.

"Only true love's kiss can break any spell," he continued.

Her heart started to pound. True love's kiss? With Hook? She should laugh it off, insist it wasn't true, obfuscate, change the subject. But she couldn't, because a small part of her, okay a not-so-small part of her, hoped he really did love her. He had told her he did, but…she'd heard it all before. Love didn't last; eventually he would leave just like all the others.

"Kid," she said finally, "I don't know if I even believe in true love. Besides, he tried kissing me when he first came to the apartment, and nothing happened."

"That doesn't mean anything," Henry insisted. "Remember in my book when Charming kissed snow after she took the forgetting potion? It didn't work on her either."

"Yeah well," she said uncomfortably, "I'm no fairy tale princess and Hook is no Prince Charming."

"But you're their daughter," he persisted. "True love is there thing, so it's kind of yours too. Do you love Hook?"

This conversation was getting down right ridiculous! "Not quite sure how I feel about him, kid," she said finally. "He's not what I would have expected Captain Hook to be like."

"But," the hurt was back in his face, "what about Dad? I thought you loved him."

Oh, they really didn't have time to get into this now!

"I…do," she said tentatively, "but it's complicated."

"Why?" he asked. "You love him, he loves you. That seems simple enough."

"Trust me kid. Nothing about love is simple. Ever."

She looked over at him. He looked so sad, so disappointed. Had he thought she and Neal would just fall back into each other's arms and declare undying love? Of course, he didn't know the history between them, the hurt. That is something she wouldn't be telling her son, ever.

Emma put her arm around Henry and rested her cheek against the top of his head. "Henry," she said gently, "whatever happens with your father, or Hook, or anyone else, I want you to know a few things. I will always love you and your father will always love you. We'll always be there for you, both of us. Okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," he said miserably. Then he brightened. "You think Hook will let me steer the Jolly Roger on the way back to the Enchanted Forest?"

Emma thought about the handsome pirate and the way he seemed to genuinely like her son. "He might kid," she said zipping her duffle. "He just might."

_Notes:_

_-So I didn't think I would EVER get this chapter finished and posted! After all the snow-day time I had at the beginning of the week, I had a million things to catch up on once I was finally able to dig out and go to work._

_-The point of this chapter was…well, I'm not really sure. I hadn't intended the Enchanted Forest section to go that way, but one day when I was fighting my way through snow drifts, Hook's dream just came to me, and I couldn't get it out of my mind. I really like the thought of Hook as a dad (particularly a dad to his and Emma's kids!). Was the dream prophetic or merely wishful thinking? I don't know, but I'm hoping the former!_

_-After I wrote the dream, I decided I might as well take some time to address something that really has bugged me about Mary Margaret this season…her infuriatingly naïve view of true love, and her insistence that Neal is Emma's true love. Hello! Have you _seen_ the way your daughter and Captain Hook have been when they're around each other…and then contrasted it with the way she is around Neal? Then, of course, I really like the way the Charming/Hook relationship has developed over season 3, so I thought I would give the two of them a scene. I like the thought of Charming nearly "shipping" Captain Swan!_

_-With regard to the New York section, leave it to Henry to get right to the heart of the matter! He clearly wants his parents to get back together, but I think with enough Hook/Henry bonding time, he could be alright with getting a new stepfather!_

_-Up next: In Camelot long, long ago, Morgana manages to get herself in the queen's good graces by saving her life. Of course Guinevere doesn't realize it was Morgana who put her life in jeopardy in the first place! The king and queen make Morgana their official castle healer and give her a room in the castle. She makes a very interesting discovery in said room. In New York/Boston present day, Hook, Emma and Henry take a road trip to Boston to try to get the vial of enchanted water from the Smiths. Will they be successful?_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 12

_Camelot, long, long ago_

Morgana grabbed her basket and stalked out of the healer's cottage.

"Get thee back here this moment, girl!" yelled the healer querulously. "Ye've a mountain of work to do before this day is at an end!"

Morgana continued walking, clenching her hands into tight fists. If she didn't leave now, she wouldn't be responsible for what she did to the bitter old woman. How dare she accuse Morgana of being careless? The healer had berated her morning, noon and night for the last few weeks since the royal wedding, and Morgana's patience was coming to an end. If the healer wasn't pleased with the way Morgana mixed the potions and crushed the dried herbs, let her do it herself!

"Leave now and you can forget about coming back!" the woman shrieked. "I don't apprentice lazy slackers."

Something snapped in Morgana. She turned so quickly she nearly tripped over her long brown skirt. The blood rushed to her head as she marched back into the cottage and slammed the door behind her. She had suffered the healer's sharp tongue for the last time! Call her lazy? Call her a slacker? The old woman would soon see what happened to those who crossed Morgana Le Fay!

"What did you call me?" Morgana said in a deceptively soft voice.

The woman's eyes widened as she looked up at Morgana. It seemed she recognized her danger. "I…I but wished you to finish today's potions," the woman said in a meek voice. "There's no need to make such a fuss."

"Oh but there is," Morgana continued in the same soft voice. "You besmirched my honor, and that is a slight I do not forgive."

For many minutes the sound of anguished screaming came from the healer's cottage. Then it abruptly came to an end.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Morgana brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her brow. This summer was a long procession of one interminably hot day after another! How she hated the heat! How she hated everything about the ridiculous life she was living!

Six months since the royal wedding and she was no nearer determining a way to fulfill her destiny as the "dark force" than she had been on the day of the wedding! It certainly didn't help that she hadn't a spare moment to call her own anymore.

She supposed she was at least in part to blame for her situation. She shouldn't have lost her temper with the healer that day several months ago, she really shouldn't have, but the rage had simmered for so long it was bound to boil over at some point.

Morgana had tried a new enchantment she'd found in her spell book. The book had described a procedure by which one could tear out the heart of another and crush it to dust. It was quite an ambitious feat, really. Morgana still struggled to complete the most basic spells; it was nothing short of presumption to believe she could pull off something of that magnitude.

But it had worked! Morgana had known it would work from the moment she reached toward the healer's chest. A feeling of raw power had shot through her arm right to her fingertips. Her hand had slipped through the healer's chest as easily as though it were butter. Morgana had felt triumph like she had never known as she held the old woman's heart in her hands and slowly started to squeeze.

The triumph had been short lived. With the healer gone, Morgana was called upon to take over the care of all within the village. The litany of small ailments these commoners found to complain of was endless! Morgana knew that if she was ever to find a way to break the Round Table and take over Camelot, she would have to orchestrate events herself to make it happen.

The bell over the door rang again. What now?! A timid teenaged girl peeked around the corner at Morgana.

"What?" Morgana asked irritably. Wasn't it enough that she had three potions left to brew tonight without being interrupted every five minutes?

The girl shrank back. "Your pardon, healer," she said meekly, "I have a message from your brother."

A message from Mordred? She had seen him but an hour past; what could he want?

"Yes?" she asked when the girl continued to stand silent before her. "What might this message be?"

"He…" she began, swallowed convulsively and then tried again. "He wishes to tell you that the queen is on a tour of the kingdom. She will be passing this very cabin not ten minutes hence. He thought you would like to know."

In a moment a plan had sprung, fully formed into her mind. She knew exactly how she could earn a place at court. Once firmly within the ranks of the nobility, she could destroy the Round Table from within.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o_

"Her Majesty the queen!" the deep, resonant tones could come from no one but Sir Lancelot. Morgana glanced once more over her spell and then stepped out of the healer's cottage door. Sure enough, Sir Lancelot flanked Queen Guinevere on one side. Beads of sweat formed against his smooth, ebony skin and slid beneath his chain mail. What fools these knights were to appear in full chain mail at the height of summer. If they didn't die of heat stroke before returning to the palace, it would be a wonder!

"We've reached the healer's cottage, Majesty," Sir Gawain said from the queen's other side. Ever the chivalrous knight where the ladies were concerned was that one. Noble Sir Galahad led the procession, scanning the road ahead for dangers, while the remainder of the Round Table followed in the queen's wake. So Arthur had sent his whole contingent with his lady bride, it seemed.

Morgana briefly made eye contact with the queen, muttered her incantation under her breath, and then sunk into a low curtsey.

"Majesty?" Sir Gawain called in a distressed tone, "are you quite well?"

Morgana rose from her curtsey to see Queen Guinevere doubled up in obvious pain, clutching her belly. Sir Lancelot turned worried eyes toward Morgana.

"You are the healer?" he asked.

"Aye," she answered affecting a look of deepest concern, "quickly, bring Her Majesty into the cottage. I can help her, but by the look of her pain, there is little time to waste!"

Sir Lancelot took the queen into his arms and carried her into the cottage. Setting her gently on the cot in the corner, the large knight stepped a respectful distance away. Morgana grabbed the tea kettle from the hearth, and poured a generous amount of near-boiling water into a large, earthen-ware mug, and then added a pinch of fragrant herbs.

"Here Your Majesty," she said placing the mug into the queen's soft hands. "This will ease the pain and make you more comfortable."

Guinevere took a sip and the lines of pain on her brow eased almost immediately.

"Thank you, healer," the queen said in soft tones, "I am much refreshed by your brew."

_For now_, Morgana thought to herself.

"I am most pleased to be of service to Your Majesty," Morgana said with another deep curtsey.

"I remember you," Guinevere said, looking closely at Morgana, "You were the lady behind me at King Arthur's ball, were you not?"

"Aye," Morgana answered with a smile she desperately hoped looked sincere, "I had that honor."

"You were most kind to me then as well," Guinevere said with a smile, "so reassuring. My nerves were so grievously on edge."

Morgana merely nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"How might I thank you for all your kindness?" the queen persisted.

Morgana attempted a modest blush. "It is thanks enough to see the queen regaining her health and beauty. I ask nothing more than to be of service to you."

Queen Guinevere slowly sat up and Sir Lancelot was at her side in a moment, helping her to her feet. It was clear the procession would soon be on its way.

"I have but one request, Your Majesty," Morgana said humbly.

"And what is that?" the queen asked gently.

"The tea should help to calm your stomach and ease your pain," Morgana said, "but should the symptoms return, please don't hesitate to call for me. I would be most honored to minister to you."

Queen Guinevere thanked Morgana profusely and then continued on her way. Morgana smiled broadly to herself as she tidied up the cottage. It would be but a matter of hours before she was summoned to the palace. It wasn't a remedy that she had given the queen but a very slow moving poison…one that was sure to leave the queen writhing in agony. Imagine the royal family's gratitude when celebrated healer Morgana Le Fay swooped in and saved Queen Guinevere's life!

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Somewhere between New York and Boston, present day_

Hook looked over at Emma as they drove slowly over the snow-covered highway. Her back was ruler-straight, her hands clutched the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white, and her jaw was clenched. The lass was wound as tightly as a drum. He longed to reach over and massage the tension from her neck, but the layout of this vessel made it impossible; from his perch in the passenger seat, it was his hook hand which was closest to her.

It was just as well, anyway. As tense as the lass was, she would likely jump out of her skin at the slightest touch. Who were these Smith's to whose house they were travelling? Emma had given him only the most basic information. They'd been her foster parents; she'd spent three years with them. Had they mistreated her? Something traumatic had happened to her in relation to them, that was plain to see.

"Mom," Henry whined from the back seat, "are we there yet? We've been driving forever!"

Emma clenched her jaw and then answered in a tight voice. "If we were there, we wouldn't still be driving, would we kid? _Please_ stop asking every five minutes! We'll get there when we get there."

It had been a tediously long journey so far. Emma had assured him the drive would take no more than four or five hours, but they'd already been on the road for seven. It seemed the snowstorm that had passed through the night before had made travel treacherous.

"Lass," Hook said gently, "Perhaps we best make a stop. It will give Henry a chance to stretch his legs and you a chance for a moment's repose."

She took her eyes off the road for a moment and gave him an incredulous glare. "You're the one who keeps telling me what a dire situation the Enchanted Forest is in right now," she said angrily. "We don't have time for 'a moment's repose.' Let's just get the enchanted water and get the hell out of here!"

The car in front of them stopped abruptly, and the lass slammed on her breaks sending them skidding toward a massive snow bank along the shoulder. With a bit of fancy steering, Emma pulled them out of the skid and away from their imminent danger.

"Be reasonable, love," Hook pleaded. "We'll not do your family any good if we are in an accident ourselves. At any rate we need to discuss our strategy for obtaining that enchanted water. I'd much prefer to have your undivided attention during that conversation."

She frowned over at him again, and then abruptly sighed and turned back toward the road. "You're right, Hook," she said finally. "There's a rest stop about two miles ahead. Let's stop there."

Accordingly, about five minutes later Emma turned on her blinker and coasted off the highway into the parking lot of an attractive stone building. Emma stepped out of the car, waited for Hook and Henry to get out, and then locked the doors.

"I'm going to stop by the restroom," she said, "Henry you better do the same. I don't plan to stop again until we make it to our destination."

The lass stalked off, leaving them in her wake.

"Why is Mom in such a bad mood?" Henry asked as they walked toward the building.

"I don't know for sure, lad," Hook answered, watching as she forcefully pulled the glass door open and marched through, "but I'd wager going back to the home of these Smith's will be quite painful for her."

"Why," the boy asked curiously.

"I wish I knew lad," Hook answered sadly, "I wish I knew."

A few minutes later, Hook stood beside Henry looking at what the boy called a "vending machine." He wondered how one was supposed to obtain the food and beverages displayed there.

"Need some change, Hook?" Emma asked, handing her son a dollar bill. The lad skipped off along the row of vending machines scoping out his snack options.

"That won't be necessary, Swan," he said smiling down at her, "your father provided me with a sufficient funds for my journey."

"David gave you money?" she asked in some surprise.

"You might be surprised, love," he responded. "Your father and I have become rather close mates in the year past. It also helped that he wished me to succeed in my mission nearly as much as I wished it myself."

She looked away, her glance landing on the vending machine before him.

"A bit tamer than your normal beverage choices," she quipped. "Is the rum gone?"

He looked intently down at her. "Rum dulls the memories," he said simply. "I made you a promise; I promised that I would think of you every day we were apart, a promise I faithfully kept. To tell the truth, lass, I rather think the pain of forgetting you, even in part, would be worse than the pain of missing you."

She took a deep breath, and he could tell she wanted to pull away from him. But she didn't. With a small nod, she looked up and smiled back at him. He longed to take her into his arms, kiss the sadness from her eyes, make the world disappear, but there was no time for that now. They had a mission, and it couldn't wait.

With a sigh, he brought up the topic on both of their minds. "How are we to obtain the vial of water, lass?"

She stepped away and dragged a hand through her hair. "I don't know Hook," she said in agitation. "I can't just ring Mrs. Smith's doorbell and say 'Hi, remember me? I'm that foster kid you got rid of twenty-five years ago. Can I have your husband's most prized possession?' Doubt that'd go over well."

She tried to gloss over the pain in her statement, but he saw it clearly; he ached for her. "Lass," he said finally, "we don't need the vial itself, just its contents."

"Well," she said in frustration, "I hardly think it would be any better to ask her for the water out of the vial. That's just weird."

"Then perhaps a bit of deception is in order," he said, feeling unease at the very suggestion. "Perhaps while you are…reminiscing with Mrs. Smith, your lad and I can switch out the water in the vial with ordinary water."

She frowned. "I don't like it," she said. "Like I said, that was his most precious possession. I don't like deceiving her like that."

"I don't either much, love," he said looking away. "Hardly good form. But I see very few options. We must have that water to return to the Enchanted Forest, and as you said earlier, time is of the essence."

She held his gaze for long moments and then nodded. There was so much pain in her eyes; so much sadness. Hook reached up and cupped her cheek in his hand.

"What is bothering you, lass?" he asked gently. "What happened with the Smiths?"

Tears filled her eyes, but she resolutely blinked them away. "I can't talk about it, Hook," she said in a tight voice. "I'm not trying to shut you out, it's just…it's still too raw to talk about. Maybe someday."

He caressed her cheek and nodded. "In that case, I just need to know one thing," he said firmly, "did they abuse you? Were you in danger in that home? I'll protect you and Henry, with my life if need be. I need you to know that."

She smiled and covered his hand with her own. "I'm hardly a damsel in distress, Hook," she said gently. "I can take care of myself."

He leaned forward and gave her a soft peck on the lips. "Well do I know that, love," his voice was rough with emotion, "but know this. You no longer need to fight your battles alone. I will stand beside you for the rest of my life if you'll allow it."

_Notes__:_

_-Well, this chapter took far too long to write. It fought with me the whole way through! Morgana got way more violent than I intended her to, for one thing. I hate it when villains refuse to follow my planned plot! For another, I fully intended to include a scene with Hook, Henry and Emma at the Smiths, but that scene ended up being nothing but sickly-sweet melodrama no matter how many times I tried to write it. I think I'm going to have to leave Mrs. Smith and the grown up Tommy to your imagination, because they flat out refuse to cooperate with me! _

_-So in the long, long ago section, Morgana found a way to get in good with the royal family. I also wanted to take a moment to introduce (or re-introduce in the case of Lancelot who has already appeared on OUaT) the three knights who basically form the "inner circle" of King Arthur's court: Lancelot, Galahad and Gawain. The latter two MAY end up having a surprising connection to various other characters that have been mentioned thus far in the story._

_-Hook, Emma and Henry are on a road trip, but it's clearly not the most enjoyable experience for Emma. Why is she so nervous about going back to the home of the Smiths? What happened with them that Emma found so traumatic that it's too raw for her to talk about even now? I guess you'll have to keep reading to find out._

_-Up next (assuming my muse is back on speaking terms with me): 1 year ago in the Enchanted Forest, the inhabitants of Rumplestiltskin's castle are reunited with several more familiar fairy tale people, they have their first run-in with the Wicked Witch of the West, and they begin to make and carry out a plan to defeat said witch. In Boston-New York present day, Emma, Hook and Henry manage to obtain the enchanted water they were after. I plan a fluffy scene or two following their successful mission. But all fluff must come to an end. Before they are able to get back to the Enchanted Forest, Hook tells Emma about one more obstacle they must overcome…and it's a big one._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_Enchanted Forest, nearly 1 year ago_

Regina listlessly pushed the oatmeal around her bowl. She wasn't hungry. Again. Three weeks they'd been back in the Enchanted Forest, and she missed Henry as much as ever. Would this pain ever go away?

If they were home in Storybrooke, Henry would be getting excited about his up-coming Christmas break from school. How her son loved Christmas! Every year he went more and more overboard with the decorations. The brighter and more colorful the better. This year he would be spending Christmas with Miss Swan, his mother, and he wouldn't even remember that Regina Mills existed. The lump in her throat grew.

Regina scanned the great hall. The inhabitants of Rumplestiltskin's castle sat in groups here and there throughout. Snow and Charming held hands and carried on an animated conversation with Hook. The pirate seemed to spend nearly every free moment with the Charmings. Because they were _her_ parents, no doubt. Love really did turn people into blithering idiots. Prime reason she planned to never fall in love again.

The dwarfs sat apart at a table in the corner, eating and laughing. They had arrived at Rumplestiltskin's castle the day after everyone else. It seemed the curse had transported them back to their previous home in the woods. She still hadn't heard anything about Red or Granny or Archie.

Neal sat with Belle, the two quietly talking. Belle had undergone an amazing transformation. For a week or so, she'd been inconsolable. Then suddenly things had turned around.

"It's not over," she had stated confidently when Snow asked her what had her smiling again. "I _will _see Rumple again."

"Belle..." Neal had said slowly, giving her a pitying look. "We all saw what happened. I know it's hard to accept but…"

"No," she said smiling up at him and patting his arm, "he's alive! I can feel it. I don't know where he is or what happened to him, but I _know _he's alive!"

This level of optimism seemed too much even for Snow. "Belle," she said with concern, "I know you want that to be true; we all want that to be true, but…his dagger went through his heart."

Belle rushed over to Snow and took her hands. "I know it sounds crazy," she said, hope shining through her soft brown eyes, "but I feel it in my heart. I know he's still out there and we will find him."

If delusion is what it took to get Belle through, more power to her. Regina preferred reality…and retaliation. As Hook had said that first afternoon, she couldn't exact revenge on Pan, but there was always the matter of the Wicked Witch of the West. Regina sure as hell wasn't going to just sit by while a green wanna-be with a menagerie for an army took over _her _castle.

Regina longed to fight and fight hard, but Charming insisted on caution. They'd begun sending out scouting parties by night to obtain what information they could on the witch. So far they'd come up empty. The witch stayed to the castle for the most part and had her winged minions do her dirty work.

Robin Hood and his men continued stealing back the queen's tax money whenever they could, and Hook joined them on their excursions on occasion. Regina's eyes wandered of their own accord over to the outlaw. The man was…she couldn't even begin to describe him. He was…mesmerizing. At odd moments, her eyes sought him out, and like metal to a magnet, she couldn't tear them away. He was handsome with his brown eyes, light brown hair and chiseled jaw. But Regina had seen her fair share of handsome men, and none of them affected her like this. There was this magnetism about him, a magnetism that had her heart beating a little bit faster whenever he walked into a room.

Handsome and mesmerizing he might be, but he was also infuriating. He had seemed so kind and attentive that first evening. Quite the gentleman, holding her chair for her, making sure she had everything she needed. He'd smiled and talked to her and thanked her for her attentions to Roland.

But by the next day things had changed. He had become so cold, so distant. He wouldn't meet her eyes and kept as much distance between them as possible. Most painful of all had been his attitude with regard to Roland. Regina ached to spend time with the little boy; he seemed to make her loneliness bearable. Robin clearly was having none of it. When the first morning dawned, he had frigidly thanked her for her ministrations to Roland the night before, but told her in no uncertain terms that he would see to his own son's care from then on.

Had she done something to offend him? How could she? She hadn't even met the man until the night they returned to the Enchanted Forest. All she'd done was be kind and considerate and helpful! Clearly the man was a pompous jerk, she wouldn't waste her time and energy thinking about him!

Regina looked down and toyed with her half-eaten breakfast. Someone sat across from her, and she looked up. Her heart leaped as she found herself face to face with the handsome outlaw himself. He'd sought her out?

"Speak of the devil," she muttered under her breath, determined not for a moment to show this man how he affected her.

"Interesting epithet coming from the _evil queen_," he sneered.

So this wasn't to be an amicable conversation. No problem. She could be nasty and spiteful with the best of them.

"Does our fare not meet with Your Highness's approval?" Robin Hood asked sarcastically gesturing to her bowl of oatmeal.

"The food is fine," she quipped, "it's the company that's turning my stomach."

"I'm sorry my men and I offend you so," he said with a mocking bow.

Regina sighed. Why did his sarcasm cut her so?

"Was there something you wanted," she asked, "or did you just come to insult me?"

Robin took a swig from his mug of coffee keeping his angry eyes on her face. Finally he set his mug on the table with a little more force than necessary. Several drops of the hot liquid sloshed out and landed with a splash on the table.

"As pleasant as I find your company," he drawled, "I did have an aim in coming to speak with you. It occurs to me that we may benefit from your assistance."

"By all means," Regina said with frigid politeness, "I'm eager to offer any assistance I can."

"Being the _queen,"_ he said with an emphasis on her title, "you spent a fair amount of time in the castle."

"That is correct," Regina answered, wondering where this was heading.

"It occurs to me," Robin continued, "that one day we may need to breech the castle. Eventually it will come time for a full out assault on the witch."

Regina smiled. "Believe me," she said, "I look forward to that day like I haven't looked forward to anything for years."

"Yes, well," Robin said dismissively, "I would like to ask you to speak to my men, inform us of anything that might be useful in our attack. We need to know the castle lay-out, entrances, secret passages, that sort of information."

"Sure," Regina agreed, "not a problem.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said with a cool nod. Grabbing the handle of his mug, he got to his feet and strode out of the great hall without another word. Regina watched him until he was out of sight, willing her heart to return to its normal speed and rhythm. Why did that man affect her so?

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Red!" Grumpy shouted from the grounds where Hook and Charming were teaching the dwarfs swordplay. "Look! It's Red. And is that Granny and Archie with her?"

Regina looked up from the floor plan she was trying to reconstruct. The wolves and the cricket were back? Snow pushed past Regina and ran forward, her long, curly brown hair in her wake. Interesting how they'd gotten their old hairstyles and wardrobes back when they'd returned to the Enchanted Forest.

Snow reached Red and the two embraced. "What's happened?" Snow asked. "We've been so worried about you!"

"We landed near the palace," Red said in a weary voice, "and we were captured almost immediately."

"The witch?" asked Charming who had come forward to join his wife.

"Who else?" Granny asked with a roll of her eyes. "Although it's a wonder she was able to tear herself away from her crystal ball long enough to order her monkeys to capture us."

"But why?" Snow asked looking carefully at all three newcomers. "Why would the witch want to kidnap you?"

"My theory," Archie said in a lecturing voice, "is that she is plagued with deep-seated insecurities. She enjoys the power she wields and fears to have it taken from her. As a result she strives to exert rigid control over everyone and everything around her."

Trust the cricket to psycho-analyze the freaking Wicked Witch of the West.

"In other words," Red said with a little quirk of her brow, "she's a real piece of work."

"You can say that again!" Granny agreed.

There was silence for a moment as Hook and the dwarfs crowded around.

"Are you okay?" Snow asked reaching for Red's arm. "The witch didn't harm you?"

"Oh she tried," Granny said grimly, "took us up to her little parlor one by one and made us look into her crystal ball. It showed terrible things, frightening things. We all had to relive the most terrible moments of our lives, watch as our deepest fears came true."

"What did she hope to gain by torturing you, breaking your mind?" Hook asked from his place beside Charming.

"Information," Archie answered. "She knew you all had arrived. Somehow she could sense a shift in, I don't know, the balance of the kingdom. She wanted to know who you were, what you planned, if you were a threat."

"Naturally, she got nothing from us," Red said confidently.

"Take a lot more than bad memories to break us," Granny said with a frown. "I was kind of insulted the bitch thought we would be so easily swayed."

"Oh, she was prepared to take much more severe measures," Archie said gravely. "Remember what I told you? About how I saw her torture that poor villager? Dark magic like I've never even heard of."

"Good thing we got out of there," Granny said with a roll of her eyes, "First threat of torture and this cricket was already about to start chirping."

"I was not!" Archie said angrily

Grumpy stepped up. "How did you escape? We've been taking turns making reconnaissance trips to the palace, and if there's one thing we've learned it's that every inch of that place is crawling with the witch's guards."

"Last night was the full moon," Red said, "Granny and I transformed and slipped out of our chains."

"And the guards let you get past?" Snow asked.

"Not the brightest bulbs, those monkeys," Granny said with a sneer. "They had orders to guard two women. Apparently no one had mentioned anything about wolves."

"And Archie," Regina asked, "how did he manage it."

"It took a bit of fancy fighting on our part," Granny said proudly, "Red and I probably took down five of the monkeys…each…then broke down Archie's prison door and got the hell out."

"Well," said Snow putting an arm around Red, "You're safe now. Rumplestiltskin's castle seems to be a safe haven from the witch's prying eyes."  
"That's what we needed to warn you about," Red said stopping Snow with a hand to her arm, "She knows. Somehow the witch knows where you are. She'll be here any moment to 'pay you a call,' as she put it."

There was a billow of black smoke, and when it cleared Regina found herself face to face with the wicked witch herself. Was that Regina's dress and hat the woman was wearing? Was it not bad enough the bitch stole her castle, she also stole her _wardrobe_? Regina waved her hand and conjured a fireball. She heard the sound of the others drawing their weapons as well."

"Ah," The witch said in a smoothly modulated voice, "it is so nice to be properly introduced. Large, flamboyant entrances are quite stimulating, don't you think?"

Charming stepped forward confidently. "What do you want?" he asked in a hard voice.

The witch moved so quickly no one had time to react. She flicked her wand, and a jet of water extinguished Regina's fireball. With another flick, Charming's sword disintegrated, Snow's bow and arrow burst into flame, and she dropped them with a cry.

The witch tsked. "What poor hospitality you show," she said with a shake of her head. "I come to make a social call and you greet me with drawn weapons." She put a hand to her cheek in mock dismay, the red, perfectly manicured nails standing out against the green of her skin.

"Do not insult our intelligence," Hook said with a hard look. "We are well aware this is no social call."

"Oh very well," the witch said with a theatrical sigh. Her demeanor changed in a second. A hard glint shown from her pale blue eyes. "I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make one thing abundantly clear. _I_ am the sole ruler of the Enchanted Forest. The sooner you get that through your tiny minds, the easier life will be for all of us. Let me assure you, any defiance, any heroics will be dealt with. Swiftly and mercilessly."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Somewhere between Boston and New York, present day_

The door of the old farm house closed behind them and Hook watched as Emma and her lad walked back to the car. It had begun to snow again, and the snowflakes stood out in stark relief against the red of Emma's coat.

Henry hopped into the car as soon as he reached it, but Emma grasped the door handle and then abruptly stopped. Her shoulders sagged and her head drooped. It was as though the weight of the past couple of hours had finally become too much for her.

Hook gently turned the lass with a touch to her shoulder. She looked up at him through eyes clouded with tears; they were the eyes of a lost little girl.

"Lass," he whispered, his heart breaking for her. She reached for him, burying her head against the leather of his coat, her tears rolling from the smooth fabric to his chest, to his very heart. He brought his arms around her and held her tight, whispering soft sounds of comfort. He hardly knew what he said.

Hook planted a soft kiss on her hair, stroking it gently with his good hand. She'd been so strong, tough as nails while they'd been in the Smiths' home. It was only now, alone with him that she'd let her guard down. He hated seeing her so broken, but a small flame of hope lit his heart. She trusted him, trusted him enough to show him her heart.

After a moment, Emma pulled back and swiped her damp cheeks with her mittened hands. "It sucks, you know," she said in a small voice. "They seemed so happy to see me, like they'd missed me so much, but all I could think about was the fact that they threw me back into the system."

"I'm so sorry, love," he said. It was such an inadequate thing to say, but he could think of none other.

"I stepped in that house," she continued as the tears started to flow again, "and the years melted away. I was that scared little six-year-old who couldn't for the life of me understand why the only mommy I'd ever known wanted to get rid of me."

Hook reached up and swiped at a tear trailing down her face. "But, love," he said gently, "you're no longer that scared little lass. Whatever happened in the past, there are so many people who want you and love you now."

She looked up at him with such hope, it tore at him. After a moment, she visibly pulled herself together and stepped back.

"Did you at least get the water?" she asked.

Hook tapped the small leather satchel he wore on his belt, the same satchel that had carried the bean that had gotten them to Neverland. "It's always helpful to have a pirate about whenever sleight of hand is in order," he said with determined lightness. "And your lad is a natural!"

"Hook," she said dryly, "you turn my son into a pirate, you'll live to regret it!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," Hook said with a flirtatious wink as he headed to his side of the car.

An hour later they'd made precious little progress on their journey. The snow had picked up, and visibility was next to nothing as dark as this night was becoming. The traffic was moving at a crawl.

Emma cursed softly under her breath as the traffic in front of them stopped yet again.

"Idiot drivers!" she said and slapped the steering wheel. "You'd think they'd never seen snow! Come on!"

"Mom," Henry called softly from the backseat, "maybe we should stop soon. The roads seem pretty bad."

"Not now, kid!" she snapped. Hook looked back to see the hurt on the boy's face.

Emma closed her eyes for a moment and then looked an apology back at the lad. "Sorry, Henry," she said contritely. "It's just been a long, hard day and I'm not myself."

"All the more reason to take the lad's suggestion under advisement," Hook said carefully.

"Not you too," she said in frustration. "Hook, my family's in danger! We've got to go save them."

"Lass," he said firmly, "I don't yet know what we must do to defeat the danger that faces us, but I know it will be a long, protracted battle. You need to get what rest you can now, before the fighting begins."

She looked unconvinced, and so tense he was sure her neck must be killing her. He had to find a way to lighten the mood.

"Let's find an inn," he said with a devilish grin, "get some rest, a little sustenance. It could be…fun."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Hook, I'm not going to…" she glanced significantly at Henry in the back seat, "spend the night with you, especially with my son around!"

He feigned a pained look. "You wound me lass," he said theatrically, "All this time you've known me and you still believe me to be a lecherous cad who wishes to destroy the innocence of the young? I meant, of course, to secure us two separate rooms."

She looked over at him, and he saw the slight smile in her eyes. "And the 'fun' would come in where?"

"Well," he said looking at the boy in the back seat, "I thought your lad and I could bunk together. Perhaps he would appreciate a few tales from the Enchanted Forest. Perhaps I might further be able to wheedle some tales from him about his lovely mother."

"Yeah!" Henry said, "can I stay with Hook, Mom?"

Emma gave Hook another assessing look. "I suppose so kid…as long as you don't tell him any embarrassing stories."

"Ah," Hook grinned, "the embarrassing ones are the best."

Emma grinned back and shook her head.

"And then," Hook said in a low tone, his pirate grin still in place, "you and I, love, can save the more…enjoyable activities…for a more propitious date when there are no young ones around to corrupt."

Emma's face flamed, but the grin stayed in place on her beautiful mouth.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Can I have the bed by the window, Hook?" Henry asked as they walked down the third floor hallway of the hotel. They had, as Hook put it 'secured' adjoining rooms 311 and 313.

"Choose whichever bed you like, lad," Hook said ruffling the boy's hair.

"Cool," Henry said as he looked at the numbers on the doors. He stopped before a pair of rooms at the end of the hall. "Looks like this is it."

Hook unlocked his door and held it open for Henry. "Get yourself settled, lad," Hook said. "I'll be along in a moment; I just want to bid your mother a good night."

Henry gave them an assessing look. "You're not going to start kissing again, are you?" he asked with clear disgust.

Emma felt her face flame. Leave it to the kid to embarrass the hell out of her!

Hook cocked her that mischievous grin of his. "Never fear, lad," he said never taking his eyes from Emma's face. "Your mother's honor is safe with me; I'll be quite circumspect."

So he _wasn't_ going to attempt to kiss her? She felt a rather unwelcome stab of disappointment.

"Night, Mom," Henry said running back to give her a one-armed hug.

"Sleep tight, kid," Emma said, hugging the boy back. Henry ambled back into his room, and a moment later, they heard the TV click on.

"Thanks, Hook," Emma said, not meeting his eyes. "Thanks for…being there for me today. And thanks for hanging out with Henry. I know he appreciates it."

Hook stepped forward, and Emma felt his hand, rough and warm, against her cheek. She chanced a glance into his blue eyes. They were so tender.

"'Tis my pleasure, love," he said with a gentle smile. "And as for the lad, it's no chore to spend time with him. It's quite a son you have there, Swan."

"Yeah," she said. There was silence for a moment. Hook continued to look down at her. This was getting uncomfortable.

"Well, anyway," she said turning toward her room, "it's getting late, and we need to get an early start in the morning. We should get some sleep."

Hook languidly moved forward until he was nearly touching her. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth toward hers. Almost against her will, she responded. She lifted her mouth to his, let her eyes drift slowly shut. Hook moved with exquisite slowness until there was less than a whisper between them. She felt the heat of his lips radiating toward hers.

"As you wish, my love," he breathed, so softly she barely heard it.

Emma's heart began to race, her lips parted softly ready to welcome him, but a moment later he was gone, walking slowly backward toward his door. Emma's eyes snapped back open, and she saw that knowing smile on his lips. There was no denying the disappointment this time. God help her she'd _craved_ his kiss! Infuriating man!

"Dream of me, my Emma," he said playfully, "for I will most assuredly dream of you."

And then he'd disappeared behind his hotel room door. In a bit of a daze, she unlocked her door and stepped through. Leaning against the door, she took a deep breath, willing her heart rate to return to normal. _Dream of me, my Emma, for I will most assuredly dream of you._ It was so cheesy, such an obvious line. But as much as she wanted to roll her eyes and laugh it off she couldn't, because cheesy line or not, it had the butterflies doing an Irish jig in her stomach. This man was going to be the death of her!

_Notes:_

_-This chapter was much more cooperative than the last one, for which I am very grateful!_

_-And with the 1 year ago section the Outlaw Queen "ship" has officially set sail! Things are clearly starting on a rather precarious footing for them, but what epic love story doesn't start with a healthy dose of conflict? So, Belle is convinced Rumple is still alive. Does their true-love connection cause her to sense the truth despite all odds…or is it just like Regina thinks, she's delusional?_

_-And then there was the cs section. I didn't get as much accomplished in this section as I intended, but the scene at the hotel room doors seemed to be a good stopping place. I set myself a challenge in this chapter. I wanted to see how romantic I could make the cs section _without_ having Hook kiss Emma. It's relatively simple to induce the long theatrical sighs of ecstasy with a passionate, Neverland-style kiss…but with a non-kiss, that takes a bit more work. I'll leave it up to you to decide whether I was successful._

_-Up next: Long, long ago in Camelot, Morgana is employed as Arthur's castle healer and is given her own chamber. It just so happens to be the chamber in which Merlin stayed when he was visiting for the wedding. Morgana finds a few rather interesting items that he left behind. Also, long, long ago in the Enchanted Forest, we meet the Black Fairy, who Blue banishes from the land. In the present day section, Emma does as Hook instructed and dreams of him. One dream is a memory inspired by a phrase he used when speaking to her in this chapter, the other is similar to a dream Hook had. In the morning, Hook, Emma and Henry make their way to New York and the Jolly Roger. When they get there, Hook tells Emma of one more obstacle to getting to the Enchanted Forest. Can it be overcome?_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

_Camelot, long long ago_

Morgana stepped into her new chamber and turned on the spot examining every exquisite detail. It was magnificent! Brightly covered tapestries covered each wall, a roaring fire blazed from the gigantic hearth, the bed looked like the very embodiment of luxury. Morgana laughed to herself. She'd done it! She'd actually done it! The first phase of her plan was successful beyond her wildest dreams.

The slow-moving poison Morgana had administered to Queen Guinevere had done its job. Not two hours after the queen and her retinue stopped by the healer's cottage, a page from the castle galloped with unheard of speed back to Morgana's door. The king was frantic. Queen Guinevere had collapsed and was this moment lying in bed in excruciating pain.

Morgana had quickly gathered up the antidote and followed the page back to Arthur and Guinevere's chambers. The page hadn't exaggerated; Guinevere was in a terrible state. She writhed upon the bed, her face as pale as the sheets upon which she lay. Arthur looked little better. He paced the chamber wringing his hands. As soon as the king spotted Morgana, he rushed to her.

"Can you help her?" he asked in a tight voice. "Please! Do something!"

Morgana gave Arthur her most reassuring smile. When she spoke, her voice was as soothing as a warm bath.

"Fear not, Your Majesty," she said, "I can cure her."

Morgana had mixed no more than two drops of the antidote into a full tumbler of mead. It was not nearly enough to affect a complete cure, but it would lessen the queen's pain. Morgana could have administered the full antidote, of course, and Guinevere would be fully cured, but that hardly served her purpose. The royal family must come to rely upon her, realize that they needed her.

Over the course of a fortnight Morgana gave Guinevere the antidote bit by achingly small bit, and the queen improved accordingly. Finally, just this day Morgana had been able to declare the queen completely cured.

King Arthur had been disgustingly grateful. "You've saved my Guinevere's life," he'd said with tears in his eyes.

True enough, although he'd probably be singing a different tune if he knew Morgana had put said life in danger in the first place.

"How can I ever thank you for your kindness, your selfless care?" Guinevere had asked.

Morgana pasted on a demure, embarrassed smile. "I seek no thanks, Your Majesty," Morgana said in a hesitant voice. "I am merely overjoyed to have been of service. The king and queen deserve many, many years of happiness together; it would be a tragedy if your love was cut short after so short a marriage."

If she wasn't careful, she would suffer tooth decay from all these syrupy sweet words!

"Nevertheless," King Arthur said in a commanding tone, "your kindness and generosity shall not go unrewarded."

"Your Majesty…" she demurred with an affected blush, "It's not necessary, really…"

"Nonsense," Arthur continued with an imperial gesture. "Should it be pleasing to you, I wish to offer you a position at court. Would you consent to become the castle healer?"

"It would be my honor!" she said with a credible imitation of surprised pleasure.

"Good," Arthur had said striding toward the bedchamber door. "I shall summon a servant forth-with to prepare your new quarters. You shall become the resident of the finest guest chamber!"

The finest guest chamber? The very room Merlin had resided when he'd visited for the wedding? Intriguing. Perhaps she'd be able to imbibe some of the sorcerer's magic. Heaven knew she needed assistance. Her successes with the spell book were still embarrassingly few and far between.

Now here she was, in her very own bedchamber within the castle! She had a wardrobe with the finest clothing the kingdom could offer, silks and satins, parasols and jewels. How far she'd come already! Imagine what her life would be like when she'd succeeded in breaking the Round Table and becoming the ruler of Camelot?

But she didn't yet have an answer to the most pressing question of all. _How_ was she to break the Round Table? The twelve knights who populated the table were as united and committed to their calling as any group of people she had seen. Somehow, she had to break their fellowship, cause them to scatter to the four winds, and give up on their noble cause. But _how_?

Morgana idly flipped through her spell book. She'd read it cover to cover multiple times, and there was nothing in here that would help her, nothing! She growled in exasperation, tossing the book onto the soft bed.

It wouldn't do to mar her first great triumph with frustration. She would find a place to conceal the book and then spend the evening reveling in her success. Morgana scanned the chamber once more, and noticed the small trunk in the corner. It was perfect.

She opened the lid and prepared to deposit her most precious possession, but stopped abruptly. The trunk was not empty. It contained two items: a small, ornately framed, hand-held mirror, and an even smaller scroll. Curious.

Morgana picked up the mirror, turned it this way and that, examining every facet. "Could this have belonged to Merlin?" she muttered idly to herself.

And then she gasped. As soon as she'd spoken the wizard's name, he appeared in the reflective surface of the mirror. He was sitting at a wooden table in a modest home, a small boy sat across from him. What was this? Some manner of magic mirror?

"What have you been doing, Merlin?" she asked softly. The images in the mirror began moving steadily backward. She watched the scene rewind day by day until she saw Merlin back in this very chamber gathering up his effects with a wave of his hand. She watched as the mirror and the scroll dropped unnoticed from amid Merlin's items and settle into the chest.

Did the mirror merely show its owner, or could she see others? She must try and find out. "Show me Arthur!" she said in a commanding tone. Immediately the image of Merlin swam out of focus. When the picture reformed, she saw the king pouring over maps and papers in his study. Oh, this could be useful! This could be very useful.

Morgana placed the mirror gently upon the bed and reached for the scroll. She pulled it opened, read for a moment and gasped. This was it! This was her pathway forward! The scroll contained a curse, a curse that would send those upon which it was enacted to a far distant land…without their memories.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Fairy Havens, Enchanted Forest, long, long ago_

"I have called you together today to speak about the state of our land," the blue fairy said from her perch on the fluffiest cloud. "As you're well aware, the ogre wars are decimating the land. As I flew over the land again today, I noticed three more villages destroyed. Women widowed, children orphaned, desolation everywhere I turned."

The black fairy looked around at her fellow fairies. Shock and dismay showed throughout on all the faces. What did they care what became of the humans below? The fairies possessed magic, fairy dust and pixie dust. The petty squabbles and heartbreaks of people could not possibly affect them.

"It is our duty," the blue fairy continued, "to help those in greatest need."

"What can we do to help?" the green fairy asked eagerly. She seemed to Black like an eager little puppy wanting nothing more than to please her master.

"Our fairy dust, and particularly our pixie dust, can be of utmost help to the villagers most affected," Blue said. "A healthy sprinkling of pixie dust produces hope, and hope is the most powerful magic of all."

"It also has more tangible effects," the purple fairy piped up. "Pixie dust applied to plants produces growth, applied to livestock produces heartiness, applied to ill and wounded produces health and well-being."

"Precisely," Blue said with a nod. "It is for that reason that I have decided we will use our pixie dust to ease their pain."

Black gasped. They would be using their pixie dust, their most precious commodity for _humans_? They, fairies, the most noble and exalted of all creatures? How could Blue even think of such a thing?

Blue waved her wand and a map of the Enchanted Forest appeared. "I have divided the land into equal territories," she said. "Each of you will be assigned a territory, and it will be your job to distribute pixie dust to those in need, starting with those in the most dire straits."

The hell she would! This had gone entirely too far! Blue had gone soft, lost her fairy dignity! Perhaps it was time for a change in fairy leadership, and Black knew exactly how to affect it.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Blue," Nova said tapping the fairy on the shoulder, "there's a woman here to see you. She looks to be pretty desperate."

Blue looked up from the bag of fairy dust the dwarfs had just delivered. "Very well," she said, "show her in."

A moment later a disheveled woman walked into the room. Her hair hung lank and tangled to her waist, and her tattered clothing was barely holding together.

Blue stepped forward quickly and offered the woman a chair. She sat heavily as though she had barely the strength to hold herself up any longer.

"My dear woman," Blue said in dismay, "what has happened?"

"Fairy," the woman said in a teary voice, "I beg you to help me. My husband was killed four months past in the ogre wars, and I no longer have the means to feed my family. Now my son is sick, near death. Please, he's all I have left; I can't lose him."

Blue frowned. "I don't understand," she said, "my fairies have been patrolling the land for weeks bestowing pixie dust on all in need."

"Aye," the woman said with a hint of irritation, "that is true for many in the land. My village, however has been passed over."

"Passed over?" Blue asked. "How could that be? Where do you live?"

"My village is some ten miles north of the palace," the woman answered.

Ten miles north of the palace? That was Black's district.

"I am so sorry for your difficulties," Blue said with sincerity, "I will dispatch a fairy with pixie dust right away."

"Thank you, fairy!" the woman said gratefully.

What was the meaning of this? Why had Black passed over the village? The fairy had become more and more rebellious over the past few weeks. Clearly, it was time Blue paid her a visit.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Black looked over her store of pixie dust. She had nearly enough; she was nearly ready to make her stand. For weeks she had taken her share of the pixie dust right along with the other fairies. They had made their way to their assigned districts and distributed their riches according to Blue's wishes.

Black, on the other hand, had followed in the direction of her assigned villages, waited until all the other fairies were gone, and then returned to her rooms.

Everything was going according to plan. It was simple really. Pixie dust was one of the most powerful substances in the realm. If she was able to collect enough, she could make a stand against Blue. The battle would be epic, no doubt, but Black had no doubt she could win. After all, after the initial assault it was nearly a given the other fairies would rally to her side. How could they not? Blue was betraying their very existence!

"Black?" Blue's imperious came to her from the hall below. What was she doing here?

"In my room," Black called back, hastily shoving the bag of pixie dust out of sight. A moment later, Blue was in her room looking as angry as Black had ever seen her.

"A woman came to me today," Blue spat out, "a woman from your assigned district."

A wave of foreboding passed over Black. This couldn't be good.

"She was destitute! Her child is at death's door," Blue said angrily. "I demand to know the meaning of this!"

"I have no idea Blue!" Black said with affected confusion. She knew it was no good before she had even finished the sentence; Blue was frowning fiercely, shaking her head from side to side.

"Where is the pixie dust, Black," Blue demanded coldly.

She would have to make her stand now. She wasn't ready; didn't have enough pixie dust; hadn't been able to meet with the other fairies, tell them of her plan, get their support behind her. It was too soon, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Reaching behind her, she grabbed handfuls of the precious dust and flung it. Blue drew her wand quickly and deflected the powder. She flicked her wrist again, and ropes bound themselves around Black, immobilizing her.

"What have you done?" Blue yelled.

"I'm taking over the Fairy Havens," Black spat back, struggling against her bonds. "You're a disgrace! You've betrayed the noble lineage of the fairies! You've had power long enough."

Abruptly the anger left Blue's face to be replaced by a deep sadness. "No, Black," she said softly, "you are the disgrace."

Blue flicked her wand once more and Black's wand flew from her hand into Blue's outstretched one. Black felt her wings disappear, and she fell to the ground.

"I hearby banish you from the Enchanted Forest," Blue said in a commanding voice. "You will never return to this land again.

_Between Boston and New York, present day_

_The portal in the middle of Lake Nostos swirled, the sound nearly deafening._

_ "The compass! Get it!" Mary Margaret said. _

_ Emma drew her sword and ran toward Hook. This might be their only chance! She had to get that compass! Hook was ready for her when she arrived on the far side of the lake, his sword drawn, already swinging. She knew she was no match for him where sword fighting skills were concerned, but it didn't matter. Nothing, NOTHING was going to keep her from getting back to her son._

_ Emma swung her sword, and Hook easily parried the blow. Whirling, almost dancing, he deflected her every blow. Why did he remain on the defensive? She kicked him and advanced again. With a smooth, circular motion, Hook knocked the sword from her hand._

_ Anger propelled her forward. With a cry she rushed forward, arms outstretched. He knocked her aside, landing her on her back. Her sword was mere inches away. She had to reach it! She stretched out her hand to grab it, but then felt his hand rough around her ankle, pulling her away._

_ The fight continued around them, Cora throwing balls of fire; a family trademark, it seemed, Mary Margaret firing off arrows with lightning speed, and Mulan swinging her mighty sword. Somehow, Emma didn't see how it happened, the satchel with Aurora's heart was flying through the air heading straight for the portal. Hook bent backward as far as he could go and snagged the strap on his hook._

_ It was just the distraction Emma needed. She surged to her feet, grabbed her sword and began dancing on the spot. When Hook returned to the fight she'd be ready for him!_

_ "I may be a pirate, but I bristle at the thought of a woman losing her heart," Hook said tossing the satchel to Mulan, "unless it's over me."_

_ "I had no idea you had such a soft side," Emma said, sword outstretched, ready to resume the fight._

_ "I don't," Hook said dismissively, "I just like a fair fight."_

_ And then he was advancing on her, moving smoothly, fully in control of his every movement. She fought back with everything that was within her. _

_ "Good form," he said grabbing the foot she raised to kick him again, "but not good enough."_

_ With a quick movement, he flipped her to the ground, standing over her. She raised her sword. Things looked bad, but she wasn't giving up; this pretty boy pirate wasn't going to best her!_

_ With sensual, languid motions, Hook captured her sword, his blade against one edge, his hook against the other. Slowly, ever so slowly he began advancing on her, sword and hook moving ever closer to the hilt of her own weapon. Her heart began to pound…and it wasn't merely anger or fear she felt._

_ "Normally," he said looking straight into her eyes, "I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back. With my life on the line you've left me no choice. A bit of advice; when I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it."_

_ Emma raised her eyebrows. Well that was suggestive as hell. Suddenly Emma became aware of something digging into her back. Reaching down, she grasped the small item. The compass!_

_ "You might want to quit," Hook continued._

_ "Why would I do that," Emma asked pulling out the compass and displaying it before him, "when I'm winning."_

_ His surprise gave her the opening she needed. Pushing him aside, she got to her feet and prepared to fight again. Emma swung her sword, and it connected with his, leaving him open._

_ "Thanks," she said. She pulled back her fist and slammed it into his face. He was out cold before he hit the ground._

Suddenly the dream changed.

_Emma tiptoed out of Rose's room. Her two-year-old had _finally_ gone down for her nap. She didn't have the energy to be the mother of a toddler! Come to think of it, she didn't have the energy for much of anything lately. Her mind flitted to the possibility that had lately entered her mind. _

_Softly closing Rose's door, she walked to the bedroom she shared with Hook. Today was their fourth wedding anniversary. Hook had wandered over to the sheriff's station to ask David if he and Mary Margaret could babysit tonight so that they could, as he put it, "properly celebrate the anniversary of their matrimony."_

_Heading into the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet and took out the home pregnancy test. Her heart started pounding. They'd been trying for another baby for two months now. Hook adored his little daughter, but Emma knew he longed for a son as well. Someone to "carry on the Jones family name." Emma rolled her eyes as she took the test. He could be so archaic sometimes!_

_A minute later the results were in. The test was positive! A broad smile spread over Emma's face. A baby, another baby! She couldn't wait to tell Hook!_

_A moment later, Emma heard the front door open._

"_Emma, love," he called, "where are you lass?"_

_Emma hurried into the foyer, shushing him as she ran. "I just got Rose down for her nap," Emma said in a carrying whisper. "Don't wake her up!"_

_Hook grabbed her as soon as she was within arms-length and planted a spirited kiss on her lips. "My little Rosie giving you fits today, love?"_

"_Let me tell you," Emma said pulling Hook down onto the couch beside her, "they don't call it the 'terrible twos' for nothing!"_

_Hook laughed. "The lass has fire, like her mama."_

_Emma smiled. She couldn't wait to share her news. "Hook," she said smiling up at him._

"_Aye love?" he asked._

"_I've been thinking," she continued. "I know what we should give Rose for her next birthday."_

"_Her next birthday?" Hook asked in confusion. "But lass her next birthday isn't for a good eight months."_

"_I know," Emma said with a grin, "but I calculate it will be about eight months before this gift is ready."_

"_What is the spectacular gift that will take eight months to prepare?" he asked._

"_Well," she said, drawing out the syllable, "I thought we ought to give Rose a little brother or sister."_

_He looked confused for a second and then a broad smile wreathed his face. "Emma, love," he began slowly, "are you…?"_

"_Aye," she said imitating his manner of speech. "I took the pregnancy test just now. We're going to have another baby!"_

_He crushed her to him, and she saw the tears in his eyes. "A baby!" he whispered. Then, stooping down he placed a tender kiss on her belly where their tiny new baby lay sleeping peacefully._

Emma woke to find tears on her cheeks. The dream had been so real, so beautiful! What would it be like to live a normal ordinary life like that? What would it be like to celebrate a simple thing like the start of a new pregnancy? _What would it be like to create that pregnancy with Hook_, her traitorous mind insisted on asking. A shiver coursed through her that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold November morning. There wasn't time to think about such things now; she had the world to save, again, but when this was all over, she promised herself she would give the matter a good deal of thought.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Are you done with your breakfast, kid?" Emma asked. Hook looked over. The lad was pushing the remainder of his food around his plate.

"Yeah," Henry said, "can I go back to the room and watch TV? You guys are slow eaters."

"Sure," Emma said taking a bite of her scrambled eggs, "just make sure you have all your stuff ready to go. As soon as we finish here, we need to head back to New York."

"Ok," Henry said, hopping up and heading toward the elevator.

Hook looked over at Emma. The lass had been quiet this morning, but she looked much less tense. He wondered what was on her mind.

"Something troubling you love?" he asked.

"No," she said with a sigh, "I just didn't get much sleep last night.

_Neither did I_, Hook thought to himself. He had meant that almost-kiss last night to be teasing, flirtatious, but it had affected him every bit as much as it was obvious it had affected her. He'd shut his hotel room door behind him, but he'd wanted nothing more than to step out of the room, knock on her room, and kiss him so thoroughly that they both nearly passed out from lack of oxygen. Hook suppressed a groan just thinking about it.

Some lighthearted banter was definitely in order now.

"Ah," he said with a wicked smile, "I see you took my advice…and dreamt of me."

She blushed. _Interesting._

"You did!" he insisted.

"Yeah," she admitted with a grin. "I dreamt about punching you in the face."

"Um-hm" he said with a wink, "I'm sure it was that little bit of violence that paints that rosy blush across your lovely features."

"You are so full of it!" she said blushing even deeper. Slowly the smile faded from her face. "Hook?"

"Aye, love?" he asked, sobering up at her tentative tone.

"You said you had reason to believe that that prophecy…about a knight and lady defeating evil and all that…referred to us."

"Aye," he said.

"Why?"

Hook took a deep breath. How much should he tell her? His heart was already irrevocably united to hers, he didn't need any talisman to tell him that, but what about hers? Could she love him? He knew she was attracted to him, that little near-kiss last night was ample evidence of that. But love went a long way beyond desire. Did he dare even hope that she would give him her heart one day? Him, the dreaded pirate, Captain Hook?

In the end, he decided to tell her as little as he could manage.

"The prophecy spoke of talismans the knight and lady would possess," Hook said. He saw the surprise widen her eyes. Why?

"And," she said tentatively, "what are these talismans supposed to look like?"

Hook grasped the cross hanging around his neck. "The man will wear a cross while the lady wears a circle pendant on a silver chain."

Emma gasped again, and her hand went to her necklace.

"But," she said slowly, "the necklaces are not at all distinctive. There are probably lots of people who wear crosses or circles. What makes you think the prophecy refers to _our_ jewelry?"

Hook looked away and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He should tell her the rest of the prophecy, he really should, but he simply couldn't bring himself to. "We shall get more details when we've returned to the Enchanted Forest," he said evasively.

She looked at him assessingly for another moment and then went back to her breakfast.

"Well," she said finally, "I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Prophecy or no prophecy there's no way in hell I'm going to leave my family to face the danger of the freaking Wicked Witch of the West all alone!"

"That's my lass," he said with a grin.

Emma took one last swig of her coffee and then pushed away from the table. "I guess we better get going then."

Hook stopped her with a hand to her sleeve. There was one more thing the lass needed to know…and Hook had been avoiding this little detail like the plague.

"What?" she asked in annoyance, "time's wasting."

"Sit back down, love," he said gravely. "There's one more thing I need to tell you."

She sat. "Uh oh," she said, "from the tone of your voice I can tell I'm not going to like this."  
"Nay," he said with a sigh. "The Enchanted Forest is…has always been….protected with certain spells, much like Storybrooke was."

"Okay," she said slowly.

"The Fairy Tale world is not accessible to anyone from a non-magical realm," he continued.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "But that can't be right," she insisted, "I went there a couple of years ago, and I'm from Boston."

"Not originally, lass," he said. "You were born in the Enchanted Forest even if you spent no more than minutes there before your father placed you in the wardrobe."

He watched as the realization slowly dawned. "Henry," she breathed.

"Aye," he said sadly, "Henry. As it stands, the lad cannot enter Fairy Tale Land."

"No!" Emma said sharply. "Hook, I can't leave my son here by himself, I just can't!"

"Calm yourself, lass" he said grasping her hand, "It just so happens the Crocodile had a potion that can counteract the effects of the protections around Fairy Tale Land. If the lad drinks the potion, he will be able to enter the Enchanted Forest with us."

"Then," she asked in confusion, "what's the problem?"

"The effects of the potion are only temporary," Hook said. "He will have a few weeks, maybe a month before the effects wear off."

"What happens when they wear off?" Emma asked warily.

"He's yanked back to this world…somewhere," Hook answered grimly. "There's no telling where he might end up. Possibly a city like New York or Boston with which he is reasonably familiar, but possibly a small village on the other side of the world."

Emma pulled in a deep breath. He saw the fear in her eyes. How he hated to see it!

"Emma, love," he said earnestly, "I won't let that happen. I swear it to you. Whatever it takes, I will protect your lad. I don't know how, but I will do it."

He watched the fear recede to be replaced by a steely resolve.

"I know, Hook," she said. "I trust you.

_Notes__:_

_-Hmm…Morgana found some interesting items in Merlin's old chamber. Does the curse sound at all familiar? As for the magic mirror, it is intended to be a nod to the mirror the Beast gives Belle in the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast. Considering you probably all know who Merlin _really_ is, I figured the reference was appropriate._

_-Telling the Black Fairy's story probably seems kind of random right now, but stick with me on this. The relevance of her and her story will become evident relatively quickly._

_-So, if you haven't already noticed, dreams are a rather important part of this story…in fact they inspire the title. The title is taken from the song from the old animated Cinderella movie: A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. I think the thought of dreams is rather fascinating. The word can refer to the little movie that goes through your mind when you're sleeping or it can refer to your hopes and aspirations. Regarding the former, dreams can be random, they can show you truths you hadn't been able to work out in your conscious mind, or they can be visions of the future. I'll put a little of all of that in this story. Regarding Emma's specific dreams….well after Hook made that little comment about waiting for a more propitious date to engage in "more enjoyable activities," in the last chapter, I just couldn't resist throwing in the Lake Nostos scene. As for the other dream…interesting Emma's dream of the future fits in perfectly with Killian's, isn't it?_

_-Up next: Philip, Aurora and their baby, Briar Rose show up at Rumple's castle with interesting news…news that changes everything. In the present, Hook, Emma, and Henry make it to the Enchanted Forest and learn a little more about what they will need to do to defeat Morgana Le Fay and the Wicked Witch of the West._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_Enchanted Forest about 9 months ago_

"All I'm saying is that swords won't faze the witch!" Regina said with an exasperated sigh. "She's got magic, dark, deadly magic. You can be the best dueler in the world and you'll still have no chance against her."

Robin Hood looked over at her and felt the anger and resentment build up. He'd stopped training again for _this_? Why did he always let her interrupt him in his useful pursuits?

"Well, _evil queen_," he couldn't help the sneering emphasis he placed on her title, "I suppose you would know all about dark and deadly magic."

A shadow passed over her face for a moment. Could that be hurt? No, in order to be hurt she'd have to have a heart. The shadow passed and her customary look of haughty indifference returned.

"Yeah," she said in a patronizing tone one normally reserved for small children, "which is exactly why you'd be smart to take my insight into her character into consideration."

He hated to admit it, but she had a point. Not that he'd let on to her.

"Maybe," he said letting every ounce of his contempt show clearly through his tone, "just maybe I have more integrity than to stoop to methods the likes of which the _evil queen_ would use. Unlike some who have none, I value my honor."

The storm clouds built in her eyes. "What the hell is your deal?" she asked. "If you hadn't noticed, we are on the same side here! We're fighting for the same thing!"

His look was as cold as a glacier. "I doubt I've ever fought for the same thing as you in my life!"

She opened her mouth as though to retort and then abruptly closed it, whirled around, and stalked from the great hall. He could have sworn he saw a tear in her eye just before she turned from him.

"That was a bit harsh, don't you think, mate?" Hook asked from where he stood against a table patiently waiting for their swordsmanship training to continue.

_Yes_.

"I fail to see how," Robin answered picking up his broadsword and planting his feet, waiting for the battle to commence.

Hook said nothing, he merely quirked a brow and then raised his own weapon. The fight recommenced, the clanging of steel echoing against the stone walls. After the first visit of the Wicked Witch of the West, they had not seen the woman again, but her presence was never far from their minds. She'd begun sending patrols to Rumplestiltskin's castle on a daily basis. The flying monkeys took note of their every movement. Robin's covert thieving operations were becoming more and more difficult. As a result, he and his men spent hours obsessively training in the great hall.

Robin fought with a ferocity he hadn't shown in years. He poured every ounce of his anger and frustration into the battle. He pressed forward with more and more intensity, but Hook blocked his every blow, seemingly with ease. After five minutes, Robin lunged with a feral growl. Hook stepped aside, then raised his sword and easily disarmed his opponent.

Breathing hard, Robin dropped to the bench at the table, and dragged his sleeve across his sweaty brow.

"You're much more skilled with a bow, mate," Hook said with an inscrutable look, "but I would think you'd know better than to allow your emotions to cloud your judgment while dueling. That manner of behavior will get a man killed."

Oh he knew it, he well knew it, but Regina made him crazy. He could hardly admit it even to himself, but no matter how much he tried to remind himself that he hated her, the fact remained that he was powerfully and irresistibly drawn to her as well.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Regina sat in her chair before the fire, slowly brushing her long, black hair. Tinker Bell sat on her own bed chattering away about any number of inconsequential things. Regina didn't often mind having the fairy as her roommate in Rumplestiltskin's castle, but sometimes Tink's propensity for "girl talk" grated on the nerves.

"So then, Bae and I found a whole garden full of wildflowers right there in the clearing!" Tink continued.

Regina tuned her out; it really was the best way to deal with her. Regina's eyes turned thoughtful as she stared sightlessly into the fire. Was she still the evil queen? Is that the only way anyone would ever see her?

She'd spent years, decades embracing the moniker. If being "evil" was what it took to get what she wanted, to get her revenge, to keep Henry for herself than "evil" she would be. It was a means to an end.

But lately, she'd been working so closely with the "heroes." She'd begun to wonder if she'd chosen the wrong path. What would it be like to have someone because they wanted to be with her, not because she had managed to manipulate them into it? Other than Henry, when was the last time she'd have anyone who loved her. _Daniel_. Had she given up her chance for love and affection way back then when she'd turned to the dark one to help her gain power?

The thought troubled her. Why? She'd rarely given a thought to the way others perceived her. But now…she couldn't get Robin Hood's words out of her mind. He called her the "evil queen" in the same tone one might use when speaking of something vulgar and indecent. His revulsion toward her cut to her very heart.

"I saw you with Robin Hood today," Tinker Bell said, the name cutting through her tortured thoughts.

"Oh," Regina said nonchalantly. "Yeah. I tried to give him some advice, and he shot it down…like normal. He's got to be the most frustrating person I've ever met!"

Tinker Bell gave her a shrewd look and then smiled knowingly. "Um hm," she said, "I've seen just how 'frustrating' you find each other. Neither of you can keep your eyes from the other."

Regina felt a very uncharacteristic blush spread throughout her face. "I don't know what you're talking about!" she said hotly.

"No, I'm not sure you do," Tink said finally. "As long as I've known you you've resisted submitting to love."

"Love?" Regina scoffed. "The words 'Robin Hood' and 'love' don't even belong in the same library, let alone in the same sentence!"

"Protest all you want, Regina," Tinker Bell said, "but I know love when I see it. I showed you your chance for love long ago with the man with the lion tattoo, and you turned from it. Don't make the same mistake again."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

A week later there was a commotion outside the castle doors. Snow looked up from her breakfast. What now?

"Do you think the witch is back?" she asked Charming anxiously.

"Nay, Your Majesty." It was Hook who answered. "If you will hear the protest her minions are making, it's clear whoever has arrived is no friend of the witch."

"Good enough reason in my mind for us to welcome them with open arms," Charming added.

"I'm in agreement," Hook answered, "as always."

Snow smiled to herself. A few months ago, who would have believed Hook and Charming would be such close friends? Who would have predicted the pirate would spend virtually every waking moment with them? Even more so, who would have predicted she would find herself genuinely enjoying his company?

Snow stood, and the men followed suit. She wondered idly where everyone else was. Normally there wasn't a moment to be found without at least half a dozen people surrounding them. It had been a little less crowded for a few days when the fairies returned to their havens to rebuild, but their absence had lasted less than twenty-four hours. The morning after their return to the havens, the witch had swooped in with a full contingent of her monkeys and razed the place to the ground. It was rather odd that the witch harassed the fairies so intensely and yet left the rest of them alone.

In the entrance hall, they met Neal and Belle.

"What's going on?" Neal asked. "What's all the commotion."

"It appears we have visitors," Charming said stepping toward the huge door. "Let's see who they are."

Charming pulled the door open to reveal a young couple in rich-looking travel attire. The woman held a small baby in her arms.

"Aurora!" Snow called joyously pulling the woman into a hug. "And this must be Philip. Welcome!"

There was a good amount of bustle as the couple was introduced to those who hadn't yet made their acquaintance, brought into the great hall along with their retinue and provided with a much appreciated breakfast.

"To what do we owe this visit," Snow asked. She held Briar Rose, Aurora and Philip's six-month-old daughter and bounced her gently, eliciting a delighted gurgle from the baby.

"It's not merely a social visit, as it turns out," Aurora answered. "We have information, and we'd like to request help."

"Of course," Charming said, "we'll give you any assistance we can."

"Many thanks," Philip answered with a nod, "but it is not us that have the need."

"What do you mean?" Snow asked curiously.

"About a week ago," Aurora answered, "Philip and I were touring our demesne, as we do quite regularly. We have a prison in the desert a couple of miles from the palace. It's meant to house the worst offenders."  
"I remember passing that when I was here before," Neal said. "Looked like it had been deserted for years."

"It had been," Philip chimed in, "which is why we were shocked to hear a voice calling to us as we passed."

"Someone was in there and you didn't know about it?" Belle asked.

"Apparently so," Aurora answered. "Upon further examination we found not one, but two people in the deepest cell, one was a middle aged man who had obviously died some weeks ago, but the other was…the other was…"

"Yes?" Charming asked, "who was the other prisoner."

"The Dark One," Philip answered.

"Rumple!" Belle said with a cry. "He's alive?"

"Yes," Aurora said rushing over to Belle, "very much so."

"How?" Neal asked, "We saw the dagger go through his heart! He sacrificed himself to save all of us."

"It would appear that very act of sacrifice was his salvation," Philip answered. "When the Dark One's dagger pierced his heart, it destroyed the dark one, but left Rumplestiltskin intact. His sacrifice acted as protection to him."

Belle was crying, large, fat tears streaming down her face. "He's alive, he's alive," she muttered over and over again.

"Well, that definitely counts as news," Charming said with a grin, "but what is it you need help with?"

"Rumplestiltskin," Aurora said. "We haven't yet found a way to free him from the prison. None of our keys work."

"What about his magic?" Neal asked. "Isn't his magic strong enough to free him."

"He's wearing a cuff that counteracts magic," Aurora answered. "He said that he has no way of freeing himself from the cuff; when he stabbed himself with the dagger, the resulting magic soldered it even more firmly to his arm."

"What can we do?" Snow asked.

"His lock-breaker," Neal breathed. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Yes," Philip answered. "Rumplestiltskin asked that we come to you and ask that you bring the item of which you speak. It's the only item which can free him."

"He'll have it!" Neal said excitedly. "I'll leave first thing tomorrow!"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Waters off of the Enchanted Forest, present day_

Hook stood at the helm, holding the Jolly Roger steady on her course. They'd returned to this realm not half an hour past and the sailing conditions couldn't be more propitious for those who wished to arrive unannounced. The night was black as pitch due to the almost un-naturally dense cloud cover. Hook couldn't be happier. If the witch got wind of their arrival before they reached the Crocodile's castle, well, things could get a bit messy.

An hour before he, Emma and her lad had pulled up to the docks at New York. Emma had scanned the docks looking for his large, old-fashioned vessel. It should have stood out like a sore thumb amongst the modern ships. Hook saw the panic in her eyes when she had scanned all the docks and didn't see the Jolly Roger.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed lightly. "Fear not, lass," he had reassured, "the Jolly is well concealed under a cloaking spell. I couldn't have anyone become too curious about her, could I?"

"I suppose you're right," she said continuing to look tense.

"Ah," he said with a teasing smile, "music to my ears. Perhaps the next time you're yelling at me, contradicting my obvious wisdom, I can remind you that you said I was right?"

"Yeah, maybe so," she said absently. Hook frowned. The lass really was apprehensive. He turned her toward him and raised her chin until he could look directly into her eyes.

"This will work, Emma," he said with every ounce of confidence he could muster. "Henry drank the potion, we have the enchanted water that will create our portal. In a matter of minutes we'll be sailing the waters of the Enchanted Forest."

Her eyes clung to his like a lifeline. "What then?" she asked hesitantly. "When we return, all we have to do is defeat the Wicked Witch of the West, who possesses magic beyond any of our skill to counter. Why does anyone think I'll be successful?"

His eyes turned tender, and his hand moved to tangle in her hair. "Because you succeed at everything to which you put your hand. And as I said before, you're not alone; I'll be with you every step of the way."

She'd smiled then, a gentle, tender smile. Reaching up, she'd brought his head down and softly caressed his lips with her own. It was such a fleeting gesture, one of confidence and thanks, but it travelled straight to his heart.

They'd boarded the Jolly, still hidden under her cloaking spell. Deciding a swirling portal might create a bit of a stir of the busy New York docks, they'd sailed out until they could see nothing but the sea surrounding them on all sides, and then he'd lobbed the vial of enchanted water over the side, and they'd sailed through the portal.

"Did we make it?" Henry asked as soon as the water stopped swirling.

"Aye lad," Hook answered, "we have arrived in Fairy Tale Land."

"But," Emma said "we're far out at sea. I don't even see the coast."

"Aye," he said again. "In our case, caution is the better part of valor. It wouldn't do to have the witch alerted to our return any sooner than necessary. Unless we wish our mission to fail before it truly begins, we must maintain the element of surprise."

"Ok," she said, "so where are we?"

"Still some hours' travel from our intended destination on the far side of the Enchanted Forest."

She looked utterly exhausted, like she could fall asleep right there on her feet. "Go down below, love," he said gently. "It's been an eventful few days, and you desperately need your rest."

"What about you?" she asked touching his arm.

He smiled gently, "I'm fine lass. I'm well used to sleepless nights at the helm. My rest will come when I've delivered you and your lad safely to the Crocodile's castle."

She reached up and hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

"It is my pleasure, lass," he said against the softness of her hair. "Head to the captain's quarters. I'm sure you'll find them far more comfortable that those for the crew."

And so here he was, half an hour later, sailing through the calm, dark sea, absently singing old sea chanteys to keep himself awake. He tried valiantly not to think about the fact that his lady love lay sleeping in his bed below decks.

"Hook?" Henry called from behind him. Her son. Aye, it was certainly time to pull his mind from dreams of stealing down below and joining his Emma on his ridiculously small berth.

"Aye, lad?" Hook asked, "something troubling you?"

"No," he said hesitantly, "not really. Could you show me how to sail?  
Hook's mind traveled back to Neverland so many years ago when he'd taught another lad the rudimentaries of handling a sailing vessel.

"Aye," Hook said pulling Henry before him to the wheel. "No doubt sailing is in your blood. Your father was a natural."

"You taught my father to sail?" Henry asked, his eyes widening.

"Aye," Hook answered, "that I did. Your father was likely no older than you are now."

"Cool!" Henry said.

Hook could understand the lad's excitement. Raised without a father, the lad craved any connection to the man who'd sired him he could get. It was the same for Hook so long ago after his father had disappeared. The memory was still an open wound. Things had looked so promising, so hopeful the night his father had purchased _The Golden Swan_, but then the very next day, his father had taken off without a word.

"So what do I do?" Henry asked breaking into Hooks painful thoughts.

In a few sentences, Hook explained the basics of his ship and how to sail her.

"You make it sound like the Jolly Roger is a person, a woman," Henry said curiously.

"Aye," Hook answered with a smile, "The Jolly is a fine lady, to be sure. And she must be treated gently, with respect just as a man of honor would treat a woman."

There was silence for a minute or two. Something was on the lad's mind, Hook could see that plainly. What was bothering him?  
"You love my mom, don't you?" Henry blurted out finally.

"Aye lad," he answered trying to mask his surprise at the topic, "that I do."

"Is it true love?" Henry persisted. Hook saw how important his answer was to the lad by the seriousness of his expression.

"On my part, there is no question," Hook answered sincerely, "My love for your mother is as pure and true as any I've ever experienced."

"That's why you tried true love's kiss when you first came to our apartment," Henry persisted.

"Aye, lad," Hook answered with a decisive nod.

"Does mom love you too?" Henry asked, there was the slightest hint of pain in his voice.

"I don't know lad," Hook answered simply, "I have hope that she does, but I simply don't know."

"I…" he started. He looked away and then he resolutely looked back into Hook's eyes. "I think she does."

Hook's heart leapt. No one would know the state of Emma's heart better than this son she had moved heaven and earth to find and protect.

"Why do you say that, lad?" he hoped his voice sounded more steady than he felt.

"I don't know," Henry shrugged. "Just the way she looks at you when you're not looking. The way she touches you on the arm and hand and stuff. Mom doesn't touch people much; not even me. And then her kissing you was what brought back her memories. She had to trust you for true love's kiss to work."

Hook's heart pounded. Could it be true? Then the lad's tone began to register with him. He sounded…anguished.

"What's troubling you, lad?" Hook asked gently. "Do you not wish your mother and me to be in love?"

"What about my dad?" Henry asked looking up at him. "I thought that would be my happy ending. Mom and Dad getting back together and all of us being a real family."

He needed to tread lightly here. Very, very lightly.

"Lad," he said clasping the boy on the shoulder, "Your mother and father both love you desperately, and they will always be there to help you and protect you in any way they can. Sometimes the happy endings we expect are not the ones we're given. Sometimes there's another plan, a better one at work. If your mother and I truly share true love's bond, she could never be truly happy with your father…nor could your father truly be happy with her."

"I suppose," Henry said miserably, "but…"

"What is it lad?" Hook asked seeing the boy's hesitation, "ask me anything."

"Well," he said shifting from foot to foot, "You were a pirate."

Hook's heart dropped. Would his past never cease to plague him?

"Aye," he answered.

"And…" Henry continued, "you did bad things. You were a villain."

"Aye," Hook admitted sadly, "There are many, many things in my past of which I'm far from proud. I nearly let my thirst for vengeance against your grandfather destroy every last drop of good that remained within me."

"And my mom's good, a hero," Henry continued.  
"That she is," Hook said fondly.

"How can a hero end up with a villain?" Henry asked sincerely. "It is never that way in fairy tales."

"Henry," Hook said, looking down at the lad, "I choose to believe that whether or not one is a villain is determined by what they do rather than who they are. I was as black-hearted a villain as they come for many years…because I committed the acts of a black-hearted villain. Now…well, now, I'm trying to be the man of honor I was so very many years ago."

"You helped save me in Neverland," Henry said slowly, "and you came to find us in New York. Maybe you are becoming a hero."  
"Aye lad," Hook said sadly, "but it is difficult work. When you've been a villain…well others are hesitant to trust you, to believe you."

"But," Henry said hesitantly, "you wouldn't go back would you? You wouldn't hurt my mom?"

"Nay," Hook said firmly, "whatever happens, whatever comes, I will never harm your mother or you. I will stand beside you and protect you with my very life."

Henry was silent for a moment, and Hook made himself hold his gaze. Could the lad read truth and sincerity as his mother could? Finally Henry nodded.

"True love," Henry said, "It's important, isn't it?"

"What do you mean, lad?"

"There was more to that prophecy, wasn't there?" he asked shrewdly. "You had to be the one to come for my mom for a reason."

"You're quite a perceptive lad," Hook said with a smile. "Aye, the prophecy states that when the man's and the woman's hearts and talismans are united with the bond of truest love, they will be the key to evil's downfall."

"So you and my mom have to be in love to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West?" Henry asked.

"Aye lad," Hook said, "so it would seem. Perhaps you could help me win your mother's heart."

"Yeah," Henry said with a smile, "I could do that. We need a name for our new operation."

"Um…" Hook said, "like 'Operation defeat the Wicked Witch of the West'?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "I was thinking something a little less obvious. You know, so that we could talk about it in front of the bad guys and they wouldn't know what we were talking about."

"Ah," Hook said with mock gravity, "I see. Have you a name to suggest?"

"How about 'Operation Captain Swan'. We could call it 'Operation CS' for short."

_Notes__:_

_-Ok, so Robin Hood and Regina just need to have a good long heart to heart already where Robin tells Regina what she's done to make him hate her, and she apologizes and starts on the road to making amends. Right now, the two of them are just frustratingly star-crossed! Lol. Don't worry; if you want the Outlaw Queen ship to sail into smoother waters, you are in luck. In a few chapters the queen and the bandit will be alone on an adventure, and will confront all the demons from their past._

_-Rumplestiltskin is alive! I flat out refuse to believe he is really dead. After all, one of the cardinal rules in fiction (written or performed), is if you don't see the body you can't be 100% certain the person is dead. Will Neal and Belle be able to break him out of prison? Will he be able to find a way to get rid of the non-magic cuff so he can help the rest of our heroes defeat the wicked witch?_

_-Not much interaction between Hook and Emma in this chapter, but I thought the Hook/Henry scene was important. After all, if Hook is ever to have a real chance with Emma, he simply must have Henry's approval. Once Henry was on board, it was, of course, only a matter of time before he launched a new "operation." I simply couldn't resist having him name it "Operation Captain Swan." I choose to believe Henry is a cs shipper!_

_-Up next: Long long ago in Camelot, Morgana enacts the curse, but the results are not as she would have wished. She later finds the Black Fairy (who has an inexplicable aversion to water from the springs of Camelot) on the outskirts of Camelot and engages her as her assistant. In present day Enchanted Forest, Emma, Hook and Henry are reunited with everyone else (except Snow and Charming who are in prison), and Rumple gives them instructions about their next move._


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_Camelot long, long ago_

"Your Highness!" Morgana exclaimed sinking into a deep bow. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

Queen Guinevere hesitated for a moment at the threshold of Morgana's chamber. She was visibly distraught, and, looking at the calendar, Morgana thought she could guess the reason. Finally, the queen glided into the chamber and took a seat in Morgana's favorite chair by the fire.

"Another month has passed," Guinevere began in a pained voice, "and just today I was given proof that my hoped-for blessing has not yet come to pass."

Odd how euphemistically the queen spoke about pregnancy and child-bearing.

"Do not despair, Your Majesty," Morgana said with a sympathetic pat to the queen's shoulder, "I've no doubt you and the king will one day be blessed with a child."  
"But Morgana, it's been a year since we were married! Almost from the beginning we've been…" she blushed slightly and dropped her voice, "attempting to conceive. Why have we been unsuccessful?"

_Because I've been providing you with a potion to ensure that little bundle of joy never arrives._

Guinevere had come to Morgana not more than a week after she had taken up residence in the castle. The queen had asked Morgana for a potion that might help her to get pregnant. It had taken Morgana all of two seconds to decide that was the last thing she wished to do. It was already going to be a monumental task to dethrone Arthur and Guinevere and destroy the Round Table. To also have an heir to the throne to deal with would, well it would start to become unmanageable. Should Guinevere give birth to a son, Morgana would no doubt be forced to kill the young prince, and she didn't relish the thought of murdering a baby in cold blood. It seemed rather a heartless thing to do, though she wouldn't hesitate for a moment if it was necessary to further her plan.

Altogether it had seemed the most prudent plan to provide the queen with a contraceptive rather than a potion to enhance her fertility.

"Patience, Your Majesty," Morgana said with a gentle smile. "Sometimes these potions take a good deal of time to take effect. Before you know it you and King Arthur will have a whole castle full of lads and lasses to dote upon."

"Thank you, Morgana," Guinevere said rushing to her and giving her a fervent hug. "You are such a kind friend to me! It was a blessed day indeed when I met you at the king's ball!"

"On the contrary, Your Majesty," Morgana demurred, "It was I who was blessed."

That at least was the truth. It was a fortunate day when Morgana met Queen Guinevere. The queen's naivety and gullibility made her the perfect target for Morgana's schemes. It was almost embarrassing the extent to which Morgana could play her like a lute!

A knock sounded at Morgana's chamber door.

"If you would excuse me, You Highness," Morgana said stepping toward the door. "I've asked my brother to take tea with me this afternoon. I do so rarely get to spend time in his company."

"Of course," Queen Guinevere said, moving toward the door herself. "I don't wish to impose on a family reunion. Until supper, then, Morgana."

Morgana ushered Mordred into her chamber, firmly closed the door and waited until Queen Guinevere's retreating steps could no longer be heard.

"What's the matter, Morgana?" Mordred asked with some concern. "Your message said it was urgent I come to you."

"Not a thing is the matter, my lad," Morgana said with a broad smile. Truth be told, it was a bit misleading to call this tall, rugged man before her 'lad,' but old habits are not broken easily. "In fact, everything is wonderful. Today is the day I enact my plan."

"You've figured out how to destroy the Round Table?" Mordred asked excitedly.

"Indeed I have!" Morgana said pulling the curse from her trunk. "In my hands I hold a curse, a curse that will send the knights to far off realms…with neither their memories nor a way to return. With the knights dispersed, the Round Table will fall!"

It had been months of tireless preparation. Morgana had wished to know everything there was to know about this curse and its effects before she cast it. She'd consulted every book of magic or sorcery she could get her hands on. All curses could be broken, she was well aware of that, and she wanted to ensure these oh-so-valorous knights never found a way to break this one.

Her research had been quite clear on the antidote to this particular curse. If one affected by the curse was reminded of the truth of their identity strongly enough, their memory would return, and they would be able to return to the land from which they were banished.

Morgana simply could not allow that to happen, so she'd written one more provision in the curse. Should one of the cursed knights ever remember who he truly was, he would be transported immediately back to Camelot to be imprisoned in an enchanted prison of Morgana's own design.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Mordred asked in excitement.

"Not a thing, lad," Morgana grinned, "Not a thing."

Morgana filled her stone basin to the brim with enchanted Camelot water. She dropped in the curse, and the water began to swirl and bubble. A weak lavender smoke began listlessly billowing from the depths of the water. The smoke traveled under Morgana's closed door and then disappeared.

Neither Morgana nor Mordred said a word. They stood rooted in place, listening. For what, there was no way to know. Then a scream and a muttered oath traveled from the great hall below. Something had happened; something had definitely happened!

Morgana ran back to her trunk and grasped her magic mirror.

"Show me the knights of the round table!" she ordered.

The images in the mirror blurred and undulated until they finally came clear. Several men, whom Morgana recognized as knights of the Round Table stood within a forest clearing. Where had they ended up? The realm looked vaguely familiar. It must be quite similar to Fairy Tale Land.

Morgana watched the knights as they walked through the forest and made their way to a small village, and then her heart dropped. She knew that village! It sat just off the coast of the Enchanted Forest! The curse had not been strong enough; it hadn't managed to banish anyone from Fairy Tale Land, merely sent them to a different kingdom within this realm.

No matter. The knights were still banished from Camelot.

As Morgana continued watching the knights go about their business in their newly created lives, something else caught her attention. She saw only ten men. Where were Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad?

"Show me Lancelot and Galahad!" Morgana called in a shrill voice.

The mirror swirled again and then the images became clear. _No!_ There sat Lancelot and Galahad at the Round Table in the castle's great hall! They were in close conversation with a visibly shaken King Arthur. Somehow, Camelot's two most valiant knights seemed to have escaped the curse entirely. How could that be?

Morgana cursed fluently for long minutes as she continued to stare down at the images before her. Even with ten of the knights gone, the table itself had not sustained so much as a hairline fracture! She'd planned this for so long, worked so hard! How had it all gone awry?

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Black sat down on the small bench beside the elaborately decorated cistern.

Crossing one leg over the other, she began massaging her aching foot. She had been walking for what felt like decades; what she wouldn't give to have her wings back!

After Blue had banished her from the Enchanted Forest, Black had wandered aimlessly for a few days, completely rudderless. Where could she go? What could she do? Finally, she had remembered a bit of news she'd heard some time past. A powerful sorceress was said to reside in the land of Camelot. Might she be able to convince the sorceress to teach her magic, to help her get her revenge on Blue? The idea was so intriguing she simply had to pursue it.

So here she was, three days later in the very heart of Camelot—the enchanted spring from which Camelot was said to derive its magic. The cistern was buzzing with activity today. Several women dressed as commoners gossiped as they fetched bucket after bucket of the crisp, clear water.

"Have you heard the news from the castle?" asked a blonde woman in a gray dress.

"Nay, Mary," a second woman answered in a weary voice. "The twins have been ill, and I've not had a moment to call my own these past three days."

"It is the most extraordinary thing, Martha!" Mary replied. "You will not believe it!"

Martha sighed as she pulled her third bucket of water up. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't, but unless the news involves a new way to get fractious toddlers to sleep peacefully through the night, I doubt I will care."

"Oh, you'll care about this!" Mary insisted.

"Very well," Martha said indifferently, "what is this extraordinary news?"

"Two days past King Arthur and his knights were holding council at the Round Table,"

Mary began excitedly, "and suddenly all but Lancelot, Galahad and Arthur himself disappeared!"

"Disappeared?" Martha asked, clearly interested. "What do you mean 'disappeared'?"

"Vanished," Mary said with a snap of her fingers, "just like that. No one knows where they went or how."

"Extraordinary," Martha breathed. "And what of the Table itself? Merlin promised

Camelot would be safe so long as the knights were united and the table remained intact. What happened to the table?"

"Not a thing," Mary answered, "which puzzles everyone. Best I can figure, it remains intact because the strongest and most valiant knights remain."

The two women continued chatting for several minutes and then went their separate ways. Black stared sightlessly in the direction of the cistern. What was this about knights disappearing? Most unusual. Could Camelot's sorceress have something to do with it?

Black was so deep in thought she didn't notice the square around the cistern becoming more and more empty until she was left alone.

"Well, well, well," a course male voice said to Black's left. "What do we have here?"

A large, unkempt man who looked and smelled as though he'd never seen a bar of soap sat down beside her, leering down at her. His rotting teeth and stinking breath were rather overpowering.

"A pretty lady sitting all alone," he said draping a beefy arm around her shoulders.

"Looks like you need some company."

Black turned a withering glare on the man. "Kindly remove your repulsive arm from my person, sir," she said in a haughty, commanding voice.

"Come now, wench," the man said with a shake of his head, "don't be like that! I merely meant to offer you a little…companionship."

Black shoved the filthy arm from her shoulders and got to her feet. "I am not suffering from lack of companionship," she said frostily, "and if I were, you would hardly be my chosen remedy."

The man got to his feet, his leering grin replaced by anger. "Say what you will," he growled, "but you and me, we're about to get very…friendly!"

Black reached into her reticule and pulled out a handful of pixie dust. She had managed to fill the reticule to the very brim with the precious substance before her banishment had taken effect. Drawing back her arm as far as it would go, she threw the dust at the man and he vanished in a puff of smoke. When the smoke cleared, only a small, wriggling earthworm remained.

"Careful, vermin," Black said contemptuously, "when you insist on behaving as a worm, one day you will become one."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Morgana disliked the bustle of the Camelot cistern which buzzed like a beehive every day at daybreak. Silly gossips had never interested Morgana. Plus…well, most of the village women seemed afraid of her now, ever since that one unfortunate incident where a woman had insulted her…and ended up as a toad.

It just seemed far easier, much less of a hassle to wait until the morning rush had passed and she could draw her water in peace. Morgana walked slowly from the castle today, her mind deep in thought. Once her initial wrath at her less-than-successful curse had passed, Morgana's customary optimism had returned. The curse hadn't been entirely unsuccessful; it had banished ten of the knights. True, they had ended up far closer than Morgana would have liked, but they were no longer in Camelot, and by all appearances they had completely lost their memories.

Now she merely needed to determine a way to make the curse stronger so that she could banish the remaining knights. For that she would need stronger, more reliable magic.

Curse Merlin! Why hadn't he taught her to harness her magic?

Morgana was still several paces away from the cistern when she heard the commotion. A woman with curly, strawberry blond hair, striking blue eyes and a short, somewhat raggedy black dress sat upon a bench while a rather uncouth man began to make an obviously unwelcome pass at her. Morgana stepped forward, prepared to intervene, when the woman's actions arrested her attention. The woman grabbed a handful of fine, green, glowing powder from her bag. She threw it at the man, and he immediately became an earthworm.

What manner of magic was this? What was that powder? Morgana rushed forward, knowing but one thing. Whatever else might happen, she must obtain this woman's magic dust!

"Oh you poor girl!" Morgana said, coming to the woman and grasping her hand, "are you well? Did the brute harm you?"

The woman looked up in surprise and gave Morgana an assessing look. "Nay," she said in a well-modulated voice, "yon worm had no power to harm me. I am well adept at defending myself."

"So it would seem," cooed Morgana, drawing the woman toward the cistern and drawing a dipper of water. "Here. You must be thirsty. Please drink."

The woman accepted the dipper and brought it to her lips. She had no more than taken a sip when she dropped the dipper with a strangled cry.

"What is this poison you give me?" she asked angrily. "It burns most fiercely!"

Morgana glanced at her in surprise. It was naught but Camelot water. What was the problem? But clearly the woman was speaking the truth. An angry blistering welt appeared on the back of her hand where several drops of the water had spilled upon her. Odd, very odd.

"My apologies," Morgana said retrieving the dipper. "'Tis but Camelot water. It's generally said to have curative properties. I'm the castle healer; would you like me to provide you with a salve for your burns?"

"You're the healer?" the woman asked earnestly, "the sorceress Morgana Le Fay?"

"Ah," Morgana said in a bit of surprise, "I see my reputation precedes me."

"Indeed," the woman said. "And as it happens, you are the very person I was seeking."

"Truly?" Morgana asked with affected modesty. "What did you wish of me? Have you an ailment you need cured?"

"Nay, lady," the woman said. She went on to explain what had brought her to Camelot—the softness and naivety of the Blue Fairy, her own banishment, and her new found thirst for vengeance and the power to return to the Enchanted Forest and crush Blue. As Morgana listened her elation grew. A disgruntled fairy with a satchel full of pixie dust who wanted to learn magic so she could get revenge on the fairy who had bested her? It was an opportunity made in heaven!

"I'm truly distressed to hear of the trials you have faced," Morgana said affecting a look of deep concern, "but I can be of help to you. As a point of fact, I believe we can be of help to each other. Would you consent to being my apprentice and assistant?"

_Enchanted Forest, present day_

"So this is the Enchanted Forest," Henry said looking around with interest. "I thought it would look a little more…enchanted."

"Well, Henry," Hook answered, "it's not so much the forest itself that's enchanted, but the people within it. The forest itself is rather ordinary."

"Yeah," Emma said sarcastically, "except for the ogres and the chimaeras and the giants and the huge beanstalks, and…"

"Do you think we'll get to see any of that stuff while we're here?" Henry asked excitedly.

"Never can tell, lad," Hook answered scanning the landscape. They had been walking for around half an hour, and they would soon be coming upon the Crocodile's castle. Hook wondered just what nasty surprises they would meet when they arrived.

When he'd left the Enchanted Forest some two months past, things were precarious at best. The witch had just apprehended Snow White and Prince Charming and she'd doubled the guard's she'd placed around the Crocodile's castle. Regina and Robin Hood had long since gone into hiding along with Robin's boy after their near disastrous quest just after it was discovered that the Crocodile was alive. Would they return to find even more of their number in peril?

How was he to deliver Emma and Henry safely to the castle? Clearly walking up to the front door was out of the question. Just before he'd left for Emma's world, it had been clear that the witch was beginning to suspect his identity, and particularly his prophesied role in destroying evil. She'd waylaid him one afternoon when he was out "hunting" with Robin's men. Hook had been convinced the witch meant to detain him, but as it happened, she merely wished to ask him a few questions.

"Quite a distinctive set of pendants you wear around your neck, Captain," she'd said running her perfectly manicured fingers over his chest. It had taken all his self-control to avoid recoiling.

"Aye, I suppose it is," Hook said warily.

"Might I ask where you acquired them?" She continued smiling up at him in a way he supposed was meant to be seductive.

"Oh, you know," he said with a shrug and a grin, "who can say? Just another souvenir from my days of pillage and plunder."

"Hmm..." she said with a little frown, "I would have expected something you wear _every day_ to have more…sentimental value."

Hook had ignored the statement.

"Tell me, pirate," she said dropping the flirtatious pretense, "do you have a true love out there you're pining for?"

No way on earth he was going to discuss Emma with this witch. Time for a little of the prevarication that had served him so well as a pirate. "True love?" he'd asked with a scoff, "I think not. That would require committing to one woman; I prefer to…play the field, so to speak."

Now here he was bringing that very true love into the heart of the witch's domain. What would the woman do if she discovered Hook had returned with not only his true love…but with a true love who bore the talisman from the prophecy? The possibility didn't bear considering. He had to get Emma and Henry into the castle undetected!

"Have you been listening at all?" Emma asked in exasperation. Hook brought his mind back to the present.

"My apologies, love," Hook said with a roguish grin, "your loveliness has so captivated me that I can think of nothing else."

Emma rolled her eyes and began tapping her foot. Apparently not in the mood for flirtation. Very well.

"Sorry," he said, "what was it I missed."

"Well," she said in annoyance, "first I wondered why we've been standing in place for the past five minutes. Then I asked you what we can expect at the castle. I'd rather avoid unpleasant surprises."

"The witch has positioned flying monkeys around all but the back of the castle," Hook answered. "There in the back is a small trap door which you and Henry can enter."

"Mom and me?" Henry asked with a little frown, "what about you?"

"I'll go toward the front and distract the little demons until you've successfully entered the castle."

"But…" Emma asked looking intently up at him, "won't that be risky? Won't you be in danger."  
Hook's smile turned tender and he cupped her cheek in his good hand. "Don't worry about me, love. I can handle the monkeys. They are used to me being here; they won't give me too much trouble."

Emma covered the hand on her cheek and smiled back at him. "Be careful, okay? Once I'm in, I'll see if I can get those inside to help you."

He nodded to her, and she turned her head slightly and placed a kiss on his palm, and then walked forward.

"Looks like operation CS is off to a good start!" Henry said in a whisper.

"That it is, mate," Hook said with a grin. "That it is."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma stretched and opened her eyes to sunlight shining brightly into the chamber her mother and father had shared here in Rumplestiltskin's castle. By the position of the sun, it was close to noon. Emma stretched again and then got up. She never slept this late. Then again, the sun had been starting to come up when they arrived at the castle last night…or early this morning, rather…, so she could be forgiven for sleeping in.

Emma quickly dressed and headed toward the great hall. Gold promised that this morning he would give Hook and her instructions about what they needed to do to save the world.

It had been weird to come to the castle and see so many Storybrooke residents, but not her parents or Regina. It just didn't seem right. What was the witch doing to David and Mary Margaret? Were they in any real danger there? Was the witch merely holding them in a dungeon, or was she torturing them? A hard lump of fear formed in Emma's heart at the very thought. She may not have known the Charmings for long, but they were her parents!

Emma took two slow deep breaths, a calming technique that she had first learned during her days in the foster system. She could not think about David and Mary Margaret and what might be happening to them now. The fear would work against her. She must channel it into action!

As soon as Emma and Henry had come through the secret trap door last night, they'd found themselves in the castle kitchen face to face with half of Storybrooke, armed and ready to do battle.

"Emma! Henry!" Neal had shouted as soon as it became obvious who the visitor were.

"Dad!" Henry had replied, launching himself into Neal's arms. Emma had taken the moment to scan the rest of the crowd. Tinker Bell and the other fairies, the dwarfs, Ruby and Granny, Belle and…Gold?

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him in shock.

He smirked at her. "Well, dearie," he said with a characteristic flourish of his hand, "it is my castle."

She ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah," she said in confusion, "but…I mean, you were dead, weren't you? How did you come back."

"Long story," he answered, "but the question is how did _you _get back here without the bloodthirsty one-handed pirate we sent after you?"

"Hook!" Emma said. How could she have forgotten him? "He might need help. He was distracting the monkeys so Henry and I could get in undetected."

"On it!" Ruby called turning with Granny toward the door. "Ever since a rather bloody incident when we first got back to the Enchanted Forest, the monkeys are afraid of us."

The rest of the evening….well, early morning, really…had been spent talking and laughing with all these people she hadn't even realized she missed. How had she gone a full year without remembering anyone who was important in her life but Henry?

Emma wound her way through Rumple's ridiculously ostentatious castle, trying to find the great hall where she could get some breakfast. She hoped Hook was up and ready to go. Where had he disappeared last night? He'd no more than made it through the front door with Ruby and Granny than he'd muttered some excuse and wandered to another part of the castle. Maybe he'd just been tired. After all he had been working nearly around the clock to get them back to the Enchanted Forest.

It had felt weird celebrating without him. In the little more than a week since he'd come back into her life, she'd become so accustomed to his presence; she felt strangely…lost…when he was not around. It was a little scary to be that…connected to another human being.

Emma walked through the archway into the great hall and found her pirate himself sitting alone at the table, a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Morning, Hook," she said sitting across from him.

"Morning, Love," he replied with a gentle smile, "did you sleep well?"

"Like the dead," Emma replied helping herself to a bowl of what must be porridge.

"Rather morbid statement, that," Hook said with a grin.

"Yeah," she said, "I guess so. I'd never thought of it before.

They lapsed into silence for a moment while Emma ate her breakfast.

"Hook?" Emma asked hesitantly.

"Aye, lass?" he responded.

"Why did you leave the celebration last night?" she asked, "I mean, you played such a big role in bringing Henry and me back here. You deserved a little credit."

He suddenly looked away. "I'm a pirate, remember?" he said finally, "I'm far from used to receiving credit, certainly not from you hero types."

"Hook," she said placing a gentle hand on his arm, "you came back for me. You literally crossed worlds to find me and bring me back so that we can fight evil together. If that isn't the action of a hero, I don't know what is."

His eyes blazed as he looked at her. Slowly, deliberately, never taking his eyes from hers, he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. It was one of the most romantically intimate acts Emma had ever been the recipient of, and a bolt of electricity shot from her hand straight to her heart.

"There was another reason I stepped away last night," he said hesitantly.

"Yeah?" she asked. He'd kept ahold of her hand when he lowered it back to the table and Emma had no inclination to pull it back.

"Aye," he said, looking away. "I did not want to mar the family reunion with my presence."

Family reunion? What was he talking about?

"I…" he began, "I saw Baelfire embracing you as I walked into the castle."

Was he _jealous_? Did he think she'd chosen Neal the moment she'd been reunited with him…while Hook was still outside fighting off evil flying monkeys to protect her and her son? Yes, she'd hugged Neal, well, really it was more that Neal had hugged her, but…it was nothing but a platonic gesture.

It surprised Emma to think that she hadn't thought of Neal once since getting her memories back…well other than that conversation she'd had with Henry. Hook, on the other hand…he'd hardly spent a moment out of her thoughts.

Her mind went back to the town line that day Regina had destroyed the curse. She'd been sad when she said goodbye to Neal, but she'd been nothing short of devastated when she did the same with Hook. What if Regina had been able to send one man with her across the town line? Whom would she have chosen? _Hook_. The honest voice at the core of her being shouted the answer before she'd finished thinking the question.

Emma turned her hand over and laced her fingers with Hook's. "Hook," she said softly, "there will always be a spot in my heart for Neal, but I missed you last night. It scares the hell out of me, but I'm starting to feel like an evening spent away from you is incomplete."

The sun which suddenly burst forth from the clouds and shined into the castle couldn't have been any more radiant than Hook's smile. "Truly, love?" he asked.

"Aye," she answered.

_Notes_:

_-So, Morgana cast the curse, but it didn't go as planned. It didn't work out the way she planned partly because…well, did you notice the element of casting the curse that she was missing? The other reason it only partially worked was basically out of literary necessity. In order for my timelines to be even remotely accurate, I needed to get a certain one of the knights to the Enchanted Forest ASAP. For the same reason, I needed Sir Galahad to stay put in Camelot for another several years._

_-The Black Fairy has teamed up with Morgana…that can't be good. They're both kind of evil divas; I wonder how well they'll work together. Will the Black Fairy tire of being the "lackey" and decide she wants more power and responsibility on her own?_

_-Up next: a completely Hook/Killian and Emma-centric chapter. We'll get some more little boy Killian and little girl Emma back story. In the present, Rumple will send them off on the first part of their quest._


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_Enchanted Forest, long, long ago_

Killian fell asleep to the gentle swaying of the _Golden Swan_ as she sat tethered to the Enchanted Forest docks, his new cross still held in his small hand. He slept through the night, his sleep punctuated with dream after dream of Camelot. Lovely ladies, brave, valiant knights, sword fights, jousting tournaments, sorcerers, a young man crowned king after pulling Excalibur from the stone, the Round Table. The tale his father had read him before bed captured his imagination like little had.

"Killian, wake up!" he jerked abruptly out of his dream as Liam roughly shook his shoulder.

"Leave me be, Liam!" Killian said irritably. It had been quite the exciting dream, and he didn't relish being pulled from it.

"Wake up!" Liam insisted. "Something's happened; you have to wake up."

Gradually Liam's tone began to register with Killian. He sounded…afraid. His big brother was never afraid! Killian sat up abruptly, a cold knot of fear forming in his stomach.

"What is the matter?" Killian asked in a shaky voice.

"It's Da," Liam said sitting beside Killian on the small berth.

"What about Da?" Killian asked looking around the cabin. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Liam said in an agitated voice. "I think something happened to him."

"What do you mean?" Killian asked, his eyes widening and his heart rate picking up.

"A couple hours ago I saw Da leave the cabin," Liam said, "and then I heard shouting. Da was yelling about being deceived. He said something about all being lost and needing to set out right away."

"Then what happened?" Killian asked in a hushed voice.

"Nothing," Liam answered.

"Nothing?"

"Nay," Liam said. "I waited for Da to come back down, but he never did. What if someone was up there with him…someone who hurt him?"

Killian gasped. Nay! That couldn't be. No one could harm his da. His da was the strongest and most valiant man Killian had ever met. No one could have bested him!

"What do we do?" Killian whispered.

"I think we should go look for him," Liam said firmly. "If something happened to him he might need our help."

"Okay," Killian said getting out of bed and setting his feet on the cold floor. He was glad Liam was around. His older brother always knew what to do.

The two boys crept silently from the captain's quarters and up to the main deck. There was no one in sight. They continued their search, looking high and low throughout the ship, but the result was the same. Da was nowhere to be found. A lump formed in Killian's throat and he was afraid he would soon be crying. He bit his lip, hard, to stem the tide. He was eight-years-old, not a baby! He would not cry in front of his brother!

"Where could he be?" Killian asked, ashamed of the wobble in his voice.

"I don't know," Liam answered sounding equally upset.

"What do we do?" Killian asked in a small voice.

Liam thought for a moment, and then brightened. "Let's ask Mr. Murphy!" he said.

Killian immediately brightened at the thought. Murphy was his father's first mate, and Killian genuinely liked the old man. Murphy called himself an old sea salt and put forth a rather fierce and crusty exterior, but Killian saw the heart of gold underneath the tough shell.

"Aye," Killian nodded, "Murphy will know what to do."

The boys rushed once more below decks and hurried to the crew's quarters. As the _Golden Swan_ would be leaving soon, the boys knew Murphy would be staying with the ship, ensuring she was fully prepared for her voyage.

They burst through the door and saw Murphy sitting on his berth, his hands clasped at his knees and his head bowed. His craggy face, lined with age and years at sea looked as troubled as Killian had ever seen it. Killian held back, a bitter foreboding stealing over him.

Liam had no such qualms. He walked directly up to the old sailor and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mr. Murphy," he said in an anxious voice, "do you know where Da is? We can't find him anywhere!"

The old man raised his head and Killian saw deep sadness in his light blue, almost colorless eyes. "Ah, lads," he said with a little shake of his head. "I don't know how to break it to ye…"

Killian's heart began to pound again. What was it the man had to 'break to them'?

"What?" Liam asked urgently, "What do you know about Da?"

"Lads," Murphy said slowly, "I had just fallen asleep this night, when I was awakened by your da's yelling."

"I heard it," Liam commented.

"Aye," Murphy nodded, "well you might. He shouted loud enough to wake the dead."

"What was he saying?" Killian asked quickly.

"He hollered about being deceived. He said something about being betrayed, about having to get away, about not going to the prison."

"What does that mean?" Liam asked, eyes wide with dread.

"I canna tell ye lad," Murphy answered with a shake of his head. "I don't know myself."

There was a moment's silence. Killian thought he would go mad with his anxiety. Where was Da? What had happened?

"The shouting abruptly stopped," Murphy continued, "so I rushed topside to see what had happened."

"What did you find?" Killian asked.

"Nothing," Murphy said simply.

"Nothing?" Liam and Killian said in unison.

"Aye," Murphy answered. "Your father was gone without a trace."

"But…" Killian began, "where did he go?"

Murphy looked from one boy to the other, pity and sorrow suffusing his rough features. "I'm sorry lads, I truly am, but I'm afraid there is but one explanation," Murphy said. "Your father must be a fugitive, running from the law. The authorities must have closed in on him and he ran."

The strength drained from Killian, and he sat abruptly on Murphy's bed. His father had abandoned them? Nay! It couldn't be! He'd been so excited about their adventures on the _Golden Swan_. Together. Surely he hadn't left them!

But slowly realization and then terrible pain began to set in. Last night had seemed too good to be true. It had been a dream come true when his da announced his plan to take his sons with him as he sailed the realms. With a sigh much too deep for an eight-year-old, Killian faced the truth. It _had_ been too good to be true. His father was gone again; this time maybe for good.

_Enchanted Forest, present day_

Emma glanced around the great hall has she continued eating her breakfast. Mr. Gold had rather extravagant, ostentatious taste in decorating. Why didn't that surprise her.

"Mr. Gold was supposed to meet us here," Emma said, "where is he?"

"I've long since ceased to keep track of the Crocodile's movements, love," Hook said, lazily leaning back in his chair.

"You say you've put aside your vengeance," Emma said speculatively, "but you still refer to him as the Crocodile in a rather mocking tone."

"Aye," Hook said with a dismissive motion of his hand, "though we've decided not to kill each other, I'd wager some measure of animosity will remain forever."

"Yeah," she said, "I suppose it would. It's not just Gold. Where is _everybody_? For a castle that's home to so many people, it certainly is empty this morning."

"I nearly forgot, lass," Hook said snapping his fingers. "Henry instructed me to inform you that he would be 'hanging out', I believe that was the phrase he used, with his father today. I assume that means something to you, because it's utterly incomprehensible to me."

Emma smirked. Why did she think that if they ever did manage to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West and get back to the "real world" and something resembling normal life, that she would be spending half her life explaining modern life to this pirate?

"It's just a figure of speech, Hook," she said. "It means they're going to spend time together."

"Well that's a relief," Hook said with a teasing grin. "For a moment there I feared 'hanging out' involved something rather violent."

"Rather violent?" Mr. Gold said taking a seat at the head of the table. "You must be speaking of yourself, pirate."

"Rich," Hook said with a sneer, "coming from a man who's likely killed more people than I've ever met."

"At least I'm capable of following through with my threats, dearie," Gold shot back.

Hook looked like he could commit the murder he'd spent three hundred years attempting. It was definitely time to intervene.

"Enough, guys," she said with a downward motion of her hand. "If you'll remember, it's the wicked witch we're trying to destroy, not each other!"

"Ah, the voice of reason from the savior," Gold said mockingly.

"Don't you dare insult Emma!" Hook thundered, half rising from his seat

"Oh, how sweet!" Gold drawled, "the pirate is angry because I insulted his twue wuv."

Emma's face flamed. Did Hook see her as his true love? I mean, he'd told her he loved her while they were still in New York, and there was his attempted "true love's kiss" at her apartment, but…well true love was a big deal here in the Enchanted Forest. She chanced a glance at the pirate. His face had gone scarlet, and he looked as bashful as she'd ever seen him. This would definitely bear some reflection later, but right now, as always, there were more important fish to fry.

Emma stood up. "Fine," she said with a frown, "you guys go ahead and fight it out. I'll go look for a way to defeat the witch on my own."

"Sit down, Miss Swan," Gold said in annoyance. "As there is a witch to destroy, I suppose I can bury the hatchet, if the pirate can."

"Aye," Hook said with a frown.

"Now, dearies," Gold said, "if you would please, hand over your talismans."

Hook gave him a skeptical look. "What do you want with them?"

Gold rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't want to _take _them if that's what you mean. If I had wanted that, I could have taken them a hundred times over last night. I want to examine them and determine that they truly do fit together to form the key. Would be rather a waste to send you out of you weren't the fulfillment of the prophecy."

Hook pulled his chain over his head while Emma unclasped her necklace. Both pendants were solid, and Emma couldn't see how they could possibly fit together. Gold placed Hook's cross on the table and then set her circlet on top. The circlet sank gracefully until it was firmly meshed with the cross to form a Celtic cross. Emma gasped. She shouldn't still be surprised by the impossible happening, she really shouldn't.

"Well, Crocodile," Hook said impatiently, "do our pendants pass inspection?"

"Indeed they do, dearies," Gold said with a smile. "Indeed they do."

"Okay," Emma said taking back the silver necklace Gold held out to her after he detached the combined talismans. "So what exactly is it that we do with the talismans? Stab the Wicked Witch of the West with them?"

"Oh no, no no," Gold said with a shake of his head. "Your first order of business is to free Sir Lancelot from his prison."

"Sir Lancelot?" Emma asked skeptically, "but Cora told us he was dead."

"Well Cora lied, now didn't she?" Gold asked snidely. "Does that really surprise you."

"No, I guess not," Emma said frowning. "She was a real piece of work."

"Indeed," Gold said. "As it happens, dear Cora imprisoned Lancelot in a cell hidden within the back wall of the very prison in which I was imprisoned so long ago. This prison cannot be opened by any normal key; only a key as strong as your combined talisman will do the trick."

"But…" Emma continued, "even if it is true that Cora imprisoned him rather than killed him, that was more than a year ago. He couldn't possibly still be alive trapped in a cell with no food or water."

"Cora wasn't a barbarian," Gold scoffed. "She cast a spell that would provide him with all the food and water he needs."

"Out of the kindness of her heart, I suppose," Hook drawled.

"Not quite," Gold said. "It's much more difficult to impersonate a person when they are dead. They always take on a spectral appearance. It creates awkward questions. So, she kept him alive. After she came to Storybrooke, well I suppose she just forgot about him altogether."

"Okay," Emma said wrinkling her brow, "so we go rescue Lancelot. Why? What does he have to do with the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Not a thing, dearie!" Gold said with a little laugh.

Emma sighed in exasperation. "Then why waste time on it?"

"Because it's not the wicked witch you need to focus on defeating," Gold said seriously. "She's not the one you should be worried about, she's merely the pawn. First, you need to go to the source. Destroy the chief evil in our realm, and the wicked witch will be child's play."  
"What is this 'chief evil' and where might we find it?" Hook asked with a frown.

"You must destroy the dark force herself, Morgana Le Fay, the current ruler of Camelot."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook glanced at Emma as they walked through the Enchanted Forest. Something was troubling the lass and no mistake. She had been unnaturally quite for the entirety of their three-quarters of an hour trek so far.

Hook's mind traveled back to that day on the beanstalk so long ago.

_"Some men would take your silence as off-putting, but I love a challenge."_

He'd merely wanted to get a rise out of her then. She'd fascinated him already. Little did he guess that one day he would feel a love for her that was far stronger than any emotion he'd ever experienced.

Emma sighed, and looked at the ground before them.

"What troubles you, lass?" he asked gently. "Do you fear our mission? Do you worry about taking on Morgana Le Fay?"

"No," she said slowly, "it's not that I fear our mission so much as…well…that I dread it."

"Dread it?" he asked, offering his hand to help her over a large, fallen log. She took his offered hand with thanks. Somehow her hand remained in his even after the log had been crossed. Hook certainly had no intention of complaining.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at him. "I've…I've hated Camelot for as long as I can remember. The thought of having to go there…it totally freaks me out."

"You hate Camelot?" he asked in surprise. He couldn't say he looked forward to the trip himself. His last clear memory of anything having to do with the magical kingdom was the story his father had read him that night before he disappeared.

"Yeah," she said again. She looked assesingly at him, as though sizing him up. He prayed she would take him into her confidences.

"Can you tell me why, lass?" he asked gently.

"I suppose now is as good a time as any," she said. "When I was six years old, I lived with the Smiths, as you know. One evening my foster father read me an exciting story about Camelot…knights, ladies, jousting, sword fights, a common boy turned king. I remember being fascinated by the pictures. They were so beautiful…and so realistic. Almost too realistic to be illustrations."

"It sounds very much like a book my own father read to me," Hook confessed.

"You've never talked about your father," Emma said curiously.

"Aye, well," Hook hesitated, "'tis a dismal tale for another time. At present, I wish to hear your tale."

"Well," Emma said, continuing with her story, "I went to bed as happy a little girl as ever there was, but in the morning, my whole world came crashing down around me."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Boston, 25 years ago_

_ Emma woke suddenly on that fateful morning and knew immediately that something was wrong. For one thing it was far later than she normally awoke. For another, every morning that she could remember, she woke to the sound of her father's enthusiastic singing as he helped her mother prepare breakfast. This morning, she was met with nothing but silence._

_ Emma crawled out of her frilly pink bed and put on her fuzzy yellow duck slippers. Tommy had given them to her on her last birthday. When one pressed the left duck's wing it quacked. Her father had laughed until his stomach hurt at the look on her face when she'd first tried the slippers out._

_ Emma crept softly out of her room and toward the stairs. Tommy's room was empty; so was Mom and Dad's. They must be downstairs. Why was it so quiet?_

_ Emma padded down the stairs and into the kitchen where a truly distressing sight met her eyes. Her mom, normally so calm and collected was…a mess. Mrs. Smith sat at her normal place at the kitchen table, the phone held to her ear. Her eyes were red rimmed and frantic._

_ "Have you seen him?" her mom asked in a high pitched voice. "Did he say anything about where he was going?"_

_ She listened intently, and then her face fell and tears began to stream down her face. "Well, let me know if you hear anything."_

_ What was wrong? Emma grabbed at the necklace her dad had given her last night; somehow it made her feel safe, protected. _

_Her mom put the phone back in its cradle, then picked it up again, laboriously tracing her finger around the rotary phone. Emma looked over at Tommy who also sat at the table. He looked terrified._

"_What's going on, Tommy?" she whispered to him._

"_Dad's gone," Tommy said simply._

"_Gone?" Emma asked, a hint of dread suffusing her. "What do you mean gone?"_

"_I don't really know," Tommy said. "I woke up and Mom was really upset. She said she didn't know where Dad was. He never went to bed last night."_

_Panic clawed at Emma. Had something…bad…happened to her dad? He was the best person she knew, and she loved him like no other. If something had happened to him…_

"_Hello? Police?" her mom said shrilly, "Please help me! My husband has disappeared!"_

_Emma sat quietly, unnaturally still for an active six-year-old. She listened to her mom's side of the conversation and the fear grew more and more insistent._

"_I don't know," her mom said distractedly, "last evening sometime….I don't know…what do you mean you can't do anything yet? But if we wait until he's been gone 24 hours, he could be hurt; he could be dead!"_

_Emma began crying, her little shoulders shaking. Something terrible had happened to him! He couldn't be dead he couldn't._

"_No!" her mom yelled, "you don't understand! He couldn't have left me! He's the most honorable, conscientious man I've ever met. There's no way he'd leave his children. You have to look for him!"_

_The day continued in the same vein. It was a nightmare come true. Mr. Smith never came home, never called. None of his friends, family members, co-workers, employers, or clients had seen or heard from him. It was as though he had simply vanished into thin air._

_Emma cried herself to sleep that night. No one was around to tuck her in; her father always did that. They had a routine. He would read her a story, kiss her forehead, and then say a prayer over her, asking God and His angels to watch over his little girl while she slept. _

_Tonight…Emma had none of that. Her mother was beside herself with worry, and barely could take care of her own needs let alone those of her children. Emma and Tommy had comforted each other as well as they could throughout the day, but it had not been enough to keep the fear and dread at bay._

_The next weeks had been little better. Her dad never showed up and was never heard from again. Emma's foster mom spiraled further and further into grief. It seemed she simply couldn't cope. The house that had been such a warm, pleasant home turned into a haven for depression and despair._

_Eventually, the police called off their search. Emma remembered the day they had come to the house to talk to her foster mom._

"_There is nothing to go on, Mrs. Smith," the grizzled old officer had said as sympathetically as he could. "I know this is hard, but we just can't follow a trail that doesn't exist."_

"_No!" her foster mom had said frantically. "You can't call off the search! He's out there somewhere. He needs help! I know he does. You've got to help him!"_

"_Calm yourself, Mrs. Smith," the officer had said in a soothing voice, steering the distraught woman toward a comfortable chair. "Your children need you to be strong now."_

"_You're not listening to me!" Mrs. Smith had shrieked. "You can't call off the search!"_

"_Mrs. Smith," he said firmly, "perhaps it's time you come to grips with an unpleasant possibility. Maybe your husband simply left you."_

"_Greg would never do that to me, to the children," Mrs. Smith said, tears streaming down her face. The fight seemed to have gone out of her; she melted, almost bonelessly into her chair._

_Once the police investigation concluded, the money problems began. Emma didn't know what it all meant, but she remembered her foster mother opening an official looking envelope, and exclaiming in dismay. It seemed her foster father's company refused to pay life insurance benefits to them because there was no record of Greg Smith's death._

_Then came the day Emma would never forget. Mrs. Smith sat her down at the kitchen table and told her she would have to go back into the foster system. _

"_Emma, honey," she'd said sadly, "I simply can't afford two children right now. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but we've got to send you back."_

"_No!" Emma had cried, "Please Mom! Don't send me back! You're my family. I need you."_

_Mrs. Smith hadn't looked at her. "This is the way it has to be, Emma, I'm sorry," she said._

_Emma had cried and pleaded, screamed and begged until Mrs. Smith had finally had enough. The woman had slammed her palms down on the smooth wooden dinner table and leaned threateningly over Emma. Emma had shrunk back._

"_Enough!" Mrs. Smith yelled at the top of her lungs. "I can't help what's happened. You have to go back, and I don't want to hear another word about it!"_

_Emma had cowered in her chair at the dinner table, choking back her sobs and letting the burning tear stream silently down her face._

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"I think it was the single worst moment of my life," Emma said.

She didn't know when they'd stopped walking; she'd been so focused on the story she'd been telling. It was still raw, so very raw. There are some things even twenty-five years can't erase.

Emma looked up into Hook's face. She saw her own heartbreak reflected in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his arms, and she fell into them, holding him tightly, as though he were her only port in this terrible storm she was reliving.

"Shh," Hook said, stroking her hair with his good hand. "It's over, lass. It's over."

He continued holding her, whispering incoherent words of comfort, and slowly the aching pain and sorrow began to melt away.

"Do you know what I learned from that?" Emma asked, tears clogging her voice.

"Nay, love," Hook whispered gently.

"I learned that there's something wrong with me," she said. "Something I'm…lacking…or something. Something that telegraphs to everyone I meet that I'm expendable; I can be sacrificed if need be."

Hook pulled away far enough that he could look into her eyes. "Nay lass," he said earnestly. That is utter rubbish. Mrs. Smith and all the other people in your life who sacrificed you, left you, sent you away…they were fools. For only a fool could fail to see the priceless treasure that you are. Only a fool would fail to do everything in his power to fight for you and your happiness."

Emma was overwhelmed with the emotions these words of his elicited within her. For the first time in her life she felt truly treasured. Reaching up, she gently brought Hooks head down to hers until their lips were entwined. The kiss was slow and gentle, without heat or passion. It was nothing more or less than the giving and receiving of comfort. Emma felt the silver of her circle pendant glow warm against her skin. Odd, her pendant had never _glowed_ before.

When the kiss ended, Emma pulled away. "Thank you."

He smiled and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "You are most welcome, my love."

They turned and continued walking, hands entwined. The cave which housed Rumplestiltskin's cell would come into sight any moment. Emma didn't know what to expect when they rescued Lancelot. She was even more uncertain about their trip to Camelot. But she knew deep in her heart that all would be well as long as she had Hook by her side.

_Notes__:_

_-Whew! That was emotionally draining, particularly little Emma's flashback scene!_

_-One little note of trivia. I modeled the duck slippers little Emma wore on a pair I had. I was somewhat obsessed with ducks during high school…I think it had something to do with a guy I had a huge crush on, and my best friend bought me a pair of quacking duck slippers for my birthday._

_-Up next: I'll focus on the two main "ships" of my story. Around 9 months ago in the Enchanted Forest, Regina knows of a way to remove the anti-magic cuff from Rumple's arm, but she'll need a potion that's hidden in her old room at Snow and Charming's castle (where the wicked witch is currently residing). Regina and Robin Hood start out on a rather dangerous quest to the castle to retrieve the potion. Along the journey, Regina will discover a very interesting tattoo on Robin's arm…and will learn exactly why the outlaw seems to hate her so much. In the present Enchanted Forest, Emma and Hook free Lancelot and he tells them what they need to do to defeat Morgana and restore the Round Table. If I get to it…they travel to Camelot and take up residence in a small hut in the woods several miles outside of town._


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

_Enchanted Forest, 9 months ago_

"This could change everything!" Snow said excitedly. "With Rumplestiltskin alive, we may have just what we need to finally figure out how to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West!"

Robin Hood looked around the long table in the great hall. They had convened a kind of council of war, something they'd done at regular intervals since the Storybrooke contingent had returned to the Enchanted Forest. For the first time, there was a feeling of hope, maybe even optimism among the castle's residents.

Philip, Aurora, Neal and Belle had left earlier that morning in an attempt to free the former Dark One from his prison. Belle had been beside herself, almost walking around in a dream ever since they had received the news that Rumplestiltskin was alive.

It was a bittersweet feeling for Robin. Belle had always been so kind to him; he well knew he wouldn't be alive today without her intervention. She deserved every happiness she could get.

How would he feel if someone came to him with news that his Marian was still alive? He hardly knew. It had been such a long time since she'd died; the ache of grief and loneliness had long since mellowed into a vague ache, rather like an old war wound that still throbs from time to time.

As soon as the rescue party had departed, Prince Charming had expressed a desire to hold a council to discuss the new development. Robin had hung back slightly as Snow White gushed rapturously about how wonderful it all was. For his part, Robin simply didn't know what to make of it all.

"Captain," he said in a quiet voice, staying Hook with a hand to his arm. "What do you think of the news?"

Hook had looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well," he said finally, "it's hardly a secret that the Crocodile and I will never be, shall we say, mates. There's far too much painful history between us for that."

"But do you think we can trust him?" Robin persisted.

Again Hook considered his words before he answered. "I think he's changed to a large extent. Belle's changed him; his reconciliation with Baelfire has as well. Can we trust him? After his actions back in Storybrooke, I'm inclined to hope so."

"What precisely were those actions?" Robin asked curiously. They'd been alluded to several times in the three months since Snow and Charming and their party had arrived, but they'd never been fully explained.

"He sacrificed his own life to save the town, and particularly his true love and his son," Hook said simply. "The man who was so defined by his cowardice finally found his courage."

Robin Hood remembered the conversation as he glanced around the council.

"Not to put a damper on your enthusiasm, Snow," Charming said, "but even if Belle and Neal manage to free Rumple and bring him back, there is still a problem."

"What's that?" Snow asked with a slight frown.

"You heard what Philip and Aurora said," Charming replied. "He's not only lost his status as the Dark One, he's lost his magic as well, thanks to his non-magic cuff. When he returns, he'll be no more powerful than any other man."

"Yeah, about that…" the evil queen began. Robin's eyes were drawn to her like a magnet. She was beautiful today with her royal blue dress and her luxurious hair lying in riotous curls around her shoulders and down her back. Why did his traitorous heart insist on racing every time he looked at her?"

"Yes?" Snow asked.

"I might be able to remove Rumple's cuff," the queen answered.

"How?" Tinker Bell asked, her eyes widening.

The queen looked hesitant.

"When I was queen and lived in the palace," she answered, "I was constantly aware that I had a target on my back."

_That's the thing about being evil, _Robin thought snidely to himself. _You tend to make a lot of enemies._

"Anyway," Regina continued, "I feared someone might attempt to usurp my power, destroy my magic. I obtained a potion that could restore magical powers should they be removed for any reason."

"Great!" Snow said, "where is it?"

"That's the problem," Regina said with a grimace. "It's hidden in a cloaked trunk in my old chamber in the palace."

"The palace that's now home to the wicked witch and her monkey minions," Ruby said.

"Exactly," Regina answered.

There was silence in the hall for several minutes.

"As Snow said," Charming said finally, "having another powerful man with strong magical powers could be a complete game-changer for us. That might just be the element we need to come up with a real plan to defeat the witch. Regina we need to get that potion."

"I'll have to be the one to go," Regina said. "With the cloaking spell I used, I'm the only one who can find the potion. How I'll manage to get past the monkeys and through the palace undetected, God only knows."

"Leave that to me," Robin heard himself offering. "As an outlaw, I'm well used to stealth. I can create a way to get you to the potion and back here safely."

Why had he offered? Taking her to the palace would of necessity require they spend a good deal of time together. His traitor of a heart started doing somersaults. He didn't actually _want_ to accompany the queen on a dangerous quest, did he? _No_, his head insisted….but he was very much afraid his heart was trying to say _yes_.

Well what of it? He was a healthy man, and he couldn't help but be affected by a beautiful woman. It was nothing more than that. He was safe; he hated her far too much to ever lose his heart to her.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Regina walked along the rough terrain, stealing occasional glances at the man beside her. They'd been walking for twenty minutes and he'd yet to say a word. Why had he offered to accompany her on this journey? Over the past three months he couldn't have made it any clearer that he despised her.

It hurt, and Regina had no idea why. She'd spend decades being the "evil queen." What others thought of her was irrelevant. Being loathed was simply a side effect of being in power, of doing what one needed to do to remain in power. It should make no more difference what Robin Hood thought of her than what anyone else thought of her.

But it did.

She wanted to be a better person when she was around him; she regretted all the nasty things she'd done in the past. She wished with everything in her she could find a way to wipe that loathing, disgusted look off his face. Why did it matter so much to her what this outlaw thought of her? She didn't want to look into herself closely enough to find out; she was afraid of what she would find.

Tinker Bell thought she was in love with him…and even more outrageously that _he_ was in love with _her_! Such fanciful notions that fairy had! How many people fell in love with someone they actively hated?

Although _why_ he hated her was a complete mystery. Regina longed to ask him, to have it out with him and finally clear the air. The tension between the two of them was nearly palpable. What could she possibly have done to him? He didn't treat Snow, or Belle, or Tinker Bell or any of the other women in the castle like he treated her. He treated them with respect and deference, old-fashioned chivalry.

Regina tripped over a tree root and sprawled forward. She braced herself for impact with the ground, but it never came. Robin stepped forward and caught her, supporting her for a moment in his strong arms. Regina felt her face flame…with embarrassment and something else that she refused to define.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"You're most welcome, my lady," he said frostily.

Regina averted her eyes. They rested idly for a moment on his right forearm. His sleeve had been pushed back in the act of catching her, and she caught a glimpse of…something there. Curious, she looked more closely, and then gasped. It was a tattoo of a lion! _Robin Hood _was the man with the lion tattoo? How could that be?

"Are you well, Regina?" he asked curiously. "You seem to have gone pale all of a sudden."

"I'm…." Regina cleared her throat and willed her voice to steady, "I'm fine."

He nodded and started to walk on. After a few paces, she caught up to him.

"I couldn't help but notice the tattoo on your arm. It…it looked like a lion. Does it have any significance?"

He looked at her with an inscrutable look. "What do you care, queen?" he asked.

"Well," she said in confusion, "I don't know. I'm just trying to make conversation."

"'Tis the crest of a king said to be from the land without magic, King Richard I, the Lionhearted."

"Richard the Lionhearted?" Regina asked curiously. "Yeah, he's pretty well known in the land without magic."

"Just so," Robin said with a nod. "This King Richard was said to be just and kind, well beloved by his subjects. I wear this tattoo to remind myself to swear allegiance only to those leaders who, like Richard, have their subjects' interests at heart."

His look became cold. "I will not serve tyrants or _evil queens_ who make their living destroying the lives of those beneath them."

The anger began to course through Regina. She was almost irresistibly tempted to throw a fireball at his loathsome face! What was his problem?

Regina stopped abruptly and grabbed Robin's arm to stop him as well.

"Look," she said angrily, "I've had about as much as I can take of your insults and snide comments. You have a problem with me? Tell me what it is!"

He glared stonily down at her. "I hardly think this is the time or place to be discussing this," he said coldly. "We'd best keep our voices down and avoid alerting the witch's minions to our presence."

He started to walk forward, but Regina held his arm firmly. Now that the topic was broached, they were going to have it out if she had to curse him to keep him still and talking to her!

"We don't need to be loud," she said in a soft voice, "but I _will_ know what you have against me!"

"Very well!" he spat in a soft, menacing voice. "Do you remember the town of Nottingham?"  
She furrowed her brow. "Not particularly."

"Let me refresh your memory," he spat. "A number of years ago you went to Nottingham on your quest to find and get revenge on Snow White. When the villagers wouldn't help you, you had every last man, woman and child there murdered in cold blood!"

Regina gasped. She'd tried so hard to forget that village. The fear and the cries of the villagers…particularly the children…haunted her. "It…it was my most shameful moment," Regina said in a small voice, "I wish to God I'd never done it. It haunts me."

"Does it?" he asked nastily, "Poor evil queen! Do you know who lived in Nottingham?"

"No," she said in a small voice, afraid of the answer.

"Every last remaining member of my wife, Marian's family."

Regina gasped again. "Robin…I…"

He stopped her with a slashing motion of his hand.

"Marian was weak. She hadn't been well in months, but she was finally starting on the road to recovery. Do you know what happened when she got the news about Nottingham? She went into early labor and subsequently died in childbirth."

_No!_ Horror filled Regina. None of it had been real to her. The inconsequential people she'd hurt or killed were nothing but collateral damage to her. This was the first time she'd come face to face with the effects of her actions.

"Robin!" she said in distress, "I had no idea! I'm so sorry, so terribly sorry."

He said nothing, merely looked at her.

"You have no idea how much I wish I could undo many of the things I've done…not the least of which is the situation at Nottingham," she said, "But…I've changed. I'm not the woman I was before. Can you ever forgive me?"

It sounded lame, even to her own ears. What could she say? What could she do?

His glance at her was as cold as the winter snow.

"Aye," he said, "I'll forgive you. I'll forgive you just as soon as I can get the image of my beautiful, vibrant wife bleeding to death in my arms out of my mind!"

He stomped forward, leaving her in his wake. "Keep up, _Your Majesty_. We'll be there soon, and we need to plan our strategy."

_Enchanted Forest, present day_

"Well, there it is," Emma said gesturing to the entrance to the mines where Rumplestiltskin's prison lay.

"Indeed," Hook agreed following her inside.

The cave was just as Emma remembered it, dark, dank and cold. She lit a wall sconce and moved toward the cell, leery of the spiky bars that hung suspended from the ceiling.

"We're getting along a little better than the last time we were here together," Emma said, smirking at Hook.

"Aye, lass," Hook said sheepishly. "There are certainly things I would change about the first few weeks of our acquaintance if I could."

"Such as leaving me, my mother, Mulan and Aurora in a cell without food or water in a deserted mine?" Emma asked. "More or less assuring we would die?"

"Aye," Hook answered, "although in my defense, I was quite sure you would survive."

"How could you possibly believe that?" Emma asked

"You're the most amazing, enterprising lass I've ever met," Hook said with a grin. "I knew you would find a way out of that cell."

"Do you really have that much faith in me?" Emma asked. How did he always draw out her vulnerabilities?

"Absolutely," Hook said with assurance, "and that is how I know we will succeed. We will defeat Morgana Le Fay and the Wicked Witch of the West. We will rescue your parents, and your family will be reunited."

"I hope I can live up to your expectations," Emma said.

"Oh you will," Hook answered seriously. "You always do."

Emma thought she could bask in the warm glow of his assurances all day, but unfortunately, that wouldn't rescue Sir Lancelot or defeat either of the villainesses they were soon to go up against.

"Well then," Emma said turning back toward the cell, "let's get busy looking for an entrance for a hidden cell."

What were they looking for? Couldn't Gold have been a little more specific? The rock along the back of the cell looked like just that…rock. Emma started along one wall, and Hook along another. They looked carefully, combing every inch of the cell.

"Here!" Hook called after fifteen minutes of solid searching. "I think this might be it!"

Emma rushed to his side and peered in the direction he was looking. There was a tiny slit in the rock. Could their combined talismans even fit in the slit? There was really only one way to find out.

Emma unclasped her necklace and handed her circlet over to Hook. He placed it on top of his cross, and like before, the circle sank into the cross. This time the combined talisman glowed rather weakly.

"Would you like to do the honors?" Hook asked stretching out his hand toward hers.

"Why not?" she asked.

Emma slid the bottom of the cross into the crevice. It slipped in easily until only the top beam which she was holding protruded.

Nothing happened.

"Perhaps you're meant to twist the key, lass," Hook suggested.

She twisted, and for long moments, the key wouldn't budge.

"What's the matter?" Emma asked in exasperation. "Is this not the lock after all?"

"It must be," Hook said, wrinkling his brow. "The key fit perfectly. Why isn't the door opening?"

"Don't ask me!" she said slapping the rock in annoyance. "Maybe there's some sort of…I don't know… spell or incantation or potion we're supposed to use."

"Surely the Crocodile would have told us if there were," Hook said. "Somehow, our talismans have to work…unless…"

"Unless what?" she asked sharply. He had a strange look on his face….sadness? Anxiety? Despondency?

"I don't know lass," he said sadly. "Perhaps I ought to try turning the lock."

Emma looked in his eyes. For nearly the first time since she'd met him she knew he was lying. He did have some idea why the talisman wasn't working, but he didn't want to tell her.

"Alright," Emma said finally stepping back, "be my guest."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

It wasn't working! Hook's heart sank. The prophecy stated that they would be the key to defeating evil when their hearts and talismans were knitted into one. The talismans were connected, so that could only mean he hadn't yet won Emma's heart.

Sighing, Hook stepped forward and grasped the key. He twisted to the left, exerting enough pressure that the metal of the talismans bit into his fingers. Finally, the lock slowly began to give.

"You've got it!" Emma breathed.

"Aye, lass, it would appear so," Hook said as he continued laboriously twisting the key. Finally, when the key had made one half of a revolution, he heard the lock click. Stepping forward, he began pushing against the rock above the keyhole.

"A little help, if you wouldn't mind, love," he said turning back to look at Emma. She rushed to his side, so close her soft blonde hair brushed against his arm. The scent of lavender wafted up to his nose. It was all he could to keep from breathing in the heady scent. He'd wager she'd not appreciate him _sniffing _her hair when they were supposed to be on a rescue mission!

The two of them pushed together, and slowly the door gave way.

"Who goes there?" called a deep voice from the dark interior of the hidden cell.

Hook rushed in with a wall sconce. The large black man shielded his eyes, obviously unused to even the dim light the sconce projected.

"Friends," Hook answered as he stepped aside for Emma to join him.

"We've been sent to rescue you," Emma answered.

"But who are you?" Lancelot asked.

"My name is Emma Swan," Emma said, extending her hand. The knight took her small hand in his large one, and brought it to his lips. It would appear the men of Camelot were rather gallant.

"I'm the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming," Emma continued.

"Snow White and the prince?" Lancelot asked with interest. "You're the product of true love then!"

"So I've been told," she said with a wry smile. She turned and gestured in his direction. "This is Killian Jones."

Had the lass ever used his real name other than during her memory loss? He hardly knew what to make of it. The sound was strange after being Captain Hook for so many centuries.

Lancelot bowed in his direction. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, good sir."

"Likewise," Hook answered returning the bow.

"Please," Emma said, stepping back, "I'm sure you're ready to get out of this cage."

"Most ready, My Lady!" Sir Lancelot said with a wide, delighted grin.

Hook followed Lancelot and Emma from the cell. The group didn't stop until they reached the crisp clean air outside of the mines. Lancelot once again shaded his eyes. It was no wonder. If the light from the sconce was too bright, what must noonday sunlight be like?

"I am forever in your debt for rescuing me!" Lancelot said once his eyes had finally adjusted. "If there is any way I could be of service to you, please, don't hesitate to ask."

"Actually," Hook said, stepping forward, "the lady and I have set forth on a quest, and we've been instructed to ask for your council."

Sir Lancelot bowed his acquiescence.

"It's my parents," Emma said. Hook heard the worry in her voice and wished there was a way he could relieve it. "Well, them and everyone in the Enchanted Forest."

"My sword and my lance are at your service," Lancelot said.

"It may come to that," Emma said wryly, "but apparently we can't rescue them yet. We're supposed to defeat some dark force named Morgana Le Fay first."

"Morgana Le Fay," Lancelot thundered. "Anything, anything at all that I can do to help in defeating that witch I will do. Immediately!"

Apparently Lancelot was no Morgana supporter.

"What exactly did she do to make you so mad at her?" Emma asked. Hook supposed that was the tone she used when conducting investigations in her role as sheriff.

"She destroyed my beloved Camelot!" Lancelot answered angrily. "We were a land of peace, prosperity. Then she slowly destroyed it all! She must be stopped."

Hook stepped forward. "And we believe we are precisely the ones prophesied to stop her."

He held out the combined talismans. Their glow was so weak it could barely be seen in the harsh light of day. Lancelot peered down into Hook's hand and gasped.

"The talismans!" He said in a hushed whisper. "Are you truly the knight and lady said to be the force which will defeat Morgana?"

"So it would appear," Hook answered with a grin.

"But something is not quite right," Lancelot answered looking from one to the other. "According to the prophecy, the combined talismans are to glow brighter than any torch."

"Why aren't ours doing that?" Emma asked, confused. Hook thought he knew the answer, and prayed he was wrong.

"Perhaps," Lancelot said looking from one to the other, "the remainder of the prophecy has not yet been fulfilled."

"The remainder?" Emma asked looking up at Hook in confusion. "Our talismans were supposed to be knitted together or something, and we were supposed to be the key to defeating evil. What else is there?"

"Well, lass…" he said hesitantly.

"You don't know the remainder of the prophecy?" Lancelot asked looking from one to the other.

"Aye," Hook answered sheepishly, "I know it. But I've failed to inform the lass."

"What are you keeping from me?" she asked. Hook saw the thunderclouds forming in her eyes. This was not working out as he'd planned; not at all. He had envisioned gently wooing her, coaxing a declaration of love from her, and then telling her the rest of the prophecy.

"It's just…" He said slowly. He looked away from her. "The prophecy states that a knight and his lady fair will come to Camelot. When their…hearts and talismans are knit together in the bonds of truest love, they will be the key to defeating evil."

There was silence for several moments, and finally Hook chanced a glance back at Emma. She looked utterly thunderstruck.

"True love?" Emma asked in a carefully neutral voice. "We have to feel…true love for each other?"

"Aye," he said simply. _Come on, love. Let me in! Give me hope that I can yet win your heart!_

"Um," Emma said uncomfortably, "would you guys excuse me for a moment? This is kind of a lot to take in."

"Of course, love," Hook said gently.

The two men watched her walk several paces away and then sink down until she was seated upon a large rock. Hook turned away, heartsick.

"What happens," he began giving voice to his deepest fear, "if Emma doesn't love me? What chance do we have then?"

"None whatsoever," Lancelot said speculatively.

Hook's heart dropped clear to his toes. If he failed to win her heart, he would not only doom himself to misery for years to come, he would utterly fail to fulfill the prophecy. He would doom all her family and friends to misery, torture or even death.

"Not to worry, though," Lancelot said finally.

Hook gave him a quizzical stare. Had he seen the way Emma reacted to the idea of the two of them sharing true love?

Lancelot chuckled. "She loves you, as you quite obviously love her."

Hook's heart leapt. "What makes you say that?"

"You broke me free from the prison," Lancelot said simply. "The talismans would not fit together if there was not at least deep affection between the two of you. Further, if it _only_ rose to the level of simple affection, the key could not have turned, the door could not have been opened."

"But," Hook answered, glancing over at Emma. "The key only turned with the greatest difficulty; the door only opened after both the lass and I pushed with all our might."

"If you and she were not in love with each other," Lancelot insisted, "no amount of twisting, no amount of pushing could have freed me."

Hook felt a smile bloom on his face. His Emma loved him?

"But why was it so difficult?" he persisted. "Should not love be…simple?"

Lancelot chuckled again. "The path to true love never did run smooth," he said.

They were silent for another minute or two, both men watching Emma reflectively pace back and forth, her head down.

"As to why it was difficult?" Lancelot said. "I don't claim to be an expert on such matters, but I would wager I know the answer. One of you doesn't yet trust in the strength of your love. Perhaps neither of you do."

_Notes__:_

_-Ok, I admit it. I'm a big history nerd, particularly when it comes to the Middle Ages. As soon as I watched the episode where they introduced "the man with the lion tattoo", 3x3, I think, I became very impressed with the OUAT writers' research. The tattoo on Robin Hood's arm was indeed Richard the Lionhearted's royal crest. In the Robin Hood legends, Richard the Lionhearted is off fighting the Crusades. When he's captured and held for ransom, his brother, Prince John (who eventually becomes king after Richard dies) more or less takes over the country. He's unpopular to say the least, and Robin Hood spends a fair amount of time fighting him. I had to bring out that history in this story._

_-So, as far as Outlaw Queen is concerned, at least their issues are out in the open. Clearly there's a fair amount of work to do before they can overcome them and fall deeply in love._

_-Hmm…Lancelot reveals that Emma truly is in love with Hook, but one of them doesn't trust the strength of their love. Which one do you think it is? There may have to be some sort of life or death danger that proves to them once and for all that their feelings for each other are real and lasting._

_-Up next. Long, long ago in Camelot, Morgana spends the next several years attempting to figure out what went wrong with her curse. Meanwhile she continues growing in strength, largely due to the help of the Black Fairy, her new protégé. Morgana decides that in order to make the curse truly work, she will need Merlin's help. In present day Camelot, after Lancelot gives Hook and Emma instructions on the next phase of their mission, they take up residence in an old abandoned cottage on the outskirts of town. A passerby notices two new strangers in the land, and informs Morgana…who has some very unpleasant plans for how to deal with them._


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

_Enchanted Forest, Long Long ago_

A dark curse. He needed a dark curse. Rumplestiltskin walked purposefully back to his home after his enlightening conversation with the Blue Fairy. If he could get his hands on a dark curse, he could make his way to the realm Bae had disappeared to.

Panic began to claw at him. It was such a monumental task! He didn't know what realm Bae had entered; he didn't even know if the boy survived the trip. Sparks of magic flew from his fingers, sending a jet of fire to consume a nearby flower. Rumple cursed as he waved his hand to extinguish the flame. He had to keep his emotions under control!

The seer had told him he would find his son one day…a boy would lead him to Bae…a boy who would be his undoing. The thought didn't appeal; Rumple had worked too hard to gain his power to trust his fate to a mere boy. He wrote his own destiny!

So when Blue had told him about the possibility of using a curse to find Bae, a sense of elation filled him. He would command his own destiny after all! But where was he to find a curse?

Something nagged at the back of his mind, something from years ago. Hadn't he been in possession of a curse once? At the time it had been nothing more than an interesting curiosity, something that might come in useful someday. Where had he put it? It occurred to him that he had lost the curse around the same time he'd lost his magic mirror.

How he lamented the loss of that mirror! If he'd only had that mirror when Belle left, how different things might have turned out! He could have watched her, checked on her. He would have known when her father was torturing her. He could have rescued her, brought her back to his castle!

Unwelcome tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them back. He was the Dark One! He didn't cry and lament! He got his revenge! He didn't waste time feeling sorry for himself when things didn't go as he wished; he found a way to _make _them happen!

He would find Bae, somehow reconcile with him, then he would hunt down Belle's father and pay him back ten times over for every last ounce of pain and anguish he had caused her!

A man bumped into Rumple, and he growled.

"Your pardon, Dark One!" the man said in terror, "I was not looking where I was going! Please forgive me."

Rumple was in no mood to be forgiving, and the man's blubbering cowardice got on his last nerve. He raised his arm to curse the fool into oblivion, and then abruptly dropped it. There was something familiar about this man.

Rumple looked more closely while the man cowered, apparently rooted to the spot.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"G…Gowan, my lord," the man stuttered, "Captain Gowan Jones. I beg you my lord! I have two young sons at home; they need me! They've already lost their mother; if they lose me…"

Rumple threw up his hand in annoyance; he had no interest in the man's pleading. Gowan Jones…no, that wasn't right. But the name was close. Where had he seen this man before?

Then it clicked. _Camelot_. This man was none other than Sir Gawain, one of the most gallant knights the Round Table had ever seen. What was Sir Gawain doing in the Enchanted Forest…dressed as a sailor, if he was not mistaken?

_The curse!_ His mind went back to the last time he'd visited the palace at Camelot. What was it? Ten, twelve years ago? He'd gone by Merlin in that land, hadn't he? Rumple didn't know why he'd provided Arthur and his kingdom with a different name, other than the fact that names were a fascination of his.

Rumple had packed in a tremendous hurry that day, knowing he needed to get back to his son. Then he'd been interrupted by that annoying wench, Morgana, demanding he provide her with magic.

Morgana Le Fay had certainly done well for herself in the intervening years. She was the royal healer, residing in the palace, if rumors were to be believed. Could she have found…and cast…his curse? Why? What could she hope to gain by cursing a knight of the Round Table.

_The Round Table!_ Of course! If she managed to break the Round Table, she could find a way to take over the kingdom! Rumple felt a trace of admiration for the wench in spite of himself. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and took it; he could certainly appreciate that.

The man calling himself Gowan Jones stood nervously before Rumple, seemingly too terrified to move. Rumple continued eyeing the man while his mind continued to churn.

What would Morgana hope to gain by cursing just one of the knights? Not a thing. The others must be here in the Enchanted Forest somewhere as well.

And yet, the Round Table hadn't fallen. Morgana must not have enjoyed complete success with her curse.

This could be huge! If Morgana had his dark curse, Rumple was in luck. If she had the curse, she likely also had the magic mirror. Rumple could locate Bae and obtain the curse that would get his son back! The wench owed everything she had, everything she, was to him…and as he recalled, she still owed him a favor. Rumple knew precisely how he planned to collect!

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

The first order of business after he'd left "Captain Jones" was to determine just how deep and pervasive Morgana's curse was.

Rumple spent much of the day wandering around the various cities and villages of the Enchanted Forest. From time to time he came across a villager or two from whom he attempted to get information.

"Excuse me," he said stopping a rather harried housewife fighting a losing battle to get her toddler to stop his tantrum.

"What?!" she asked sharply. Upon looking up more closely, her entire demeanor changed. She bowed nearly double. "Your pardon, Dark One! I meant no offense!"

The child, lying before her on the ground, abruptly stopped his shouting and flailing as if noticing his mother's tension. Rumple sighed. On the whole his status as the fearsome Dark One served him well, but from time to time, having everyone cower away from him did get rather tiresome!

"Please don't hurt me or my son!" she continued, picking up said offspring and holding him close.'

"I'm not here to _hurt_ you, dearie," Rumple said in exasperation. "I'm just looking for information."

"Of course!" she said, bowing again. "Anything you want!"

"I would like to know," he said with a little flourish of his hand "if there have been any newcomers to the village in the last few weeks."

"Newcomers?" the woman asked reflectively. "No, I don't…oh wait! There is Percy!"

Rumple waited, but it seemed the woman had no intention of elaborating.

"And," he said, impatiently tapping his leg, "who exactly is this 'Percy' and where might I find him?"

"Oh," she said, startled, "he's the blacksmith. He lives over there." She pointed vaguely toward the east.

"You've been so helpful, dearie," he said sarcastically as the woman continued to tremble before him."

"I'm so pleased to be of service," she said softly, once again bowing.

"Well," Rumple said with a little shooing motion, "off you go then."

The woman sprinted away as if the very devil himself were on her heels. Well now that was just downright insulting! Did she think he went around cursing people just for the fun of it?

When the woman was out of sight, Rumple turned east to investigate her tip. The blacksmith turned out to be none other than Sir Percival.

All through the day, Rumple's interactions were similar. Terrified peasants and villagers stammered out news of new neighbors and friends. Sir Gareth, Sir Kay, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, Sir Agravaine, Sir Bors, Sir Tristram, Sir Lamorak, Sir Bedivere. Everyone was accounted for except Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad. The strongest and most pure of heart seemed to have escaped the curse. Interesting.

Rumple pulled up to his castle just as the last rays of the sun began to fade from the horizon. He walked past the great hall sparing it barely a glance. A thick layer of dust coated every surface. His castle was filthy. He could magic away the dirt and grime with nothing more than a wave of his hand, but what was the point? There was only one room he spent any real amount of time anymore…her room.

As he walked reflectively up the long, spiral stonestair case up to the tower where he had imprisoned Belle when she first arrived, Rumple reflected for a moment on the last few years since Belle's death. He had gotten a girl or two to take her place, but none could hold a candle to her. The first girl was so afraid of him she nearly wet herself anytime he walked into the room. And the crying! The girl wailed like a banshee every night! Finally, Rumple had enough and sent her on her way.

Then there was the second girl…she could talk for three hours straight without stopping for breath. Her constant chattering nearly drove him mad! In the end he turned her into a ferret and sent her on her way.

Reaching Belle's cell, Rumple set his lantern on the window sill. He sat on her bed and looked across at the memorial he'd made for her. He'd had her portrait made before she'd left that first time. Here it sat in a place of honor surrounded by a single, long-stemmed red rose in a vase and her beloved chipped cup.

Rumple felt the dampness in his eyes and didn't even pretend it was due to the dryness of the air. It was at this time, at dusk, that he missed her the most.

Deliberately turning his back on Belle's shrine, Rumple bent his mind to the task at hand. How was he to test the strength of the curse? He must see if he could break it, of course. He knew this particular curse could be broken if the memory was jogged forcefully enough.

And suddenly he had his answer. What was more powerful than a compelling story? Rumple waved his hand and a blank book appeared in the air before him. What should he entitle it? How about _The Magic of Camelot_? Yes. That would do nicely!

_Just outside of the Enchanted Forest, present day_

It was amazing how different the terrain was here in the "no-man's land" between the Enchanted Forest and Camelot. It was near-desert. Trees and plants of any kind were sparse at best. Emma was glad she and Hook were making the trek at the end of fall; it would be nearly unbearable at the height of summer.

Emma looked over at the man beside her. He'd been quiet ever since they'd set out early this morning, only making the most perfunctory comments. From the reflective look on his face, he was deep in thought. What about? Lancelot's revelation that they had to share a bond of true love in order to defeat Morgana and the witch?

A wave of panic washed over Emma. That was a lot of pressure, an unbelievably huge amount of pressure! She had to fall in love with him; she _had_ to! The thought of giving in to love, of making herself that vulnerable, scared her nearly to death. How could she possibly give a man, any man, even Hook, that much power over her? She'd done the whole "falling in love" thing more than twelve years ago, and it had nearly destroyed her. How could she go through that again? But she had to; she didn't have a choice. She was the savior; she had to do whatever it took to save her parents.

Emma shook her head, trying to shake the terror that gripped her heart. She couldn't focus on the prophecy right now; she simply couldn't. It would make her crazy. She knew how to survive. Focus on the here and now; focus on her environment. The sand under her feet was difficult to trudge through. It gave beneath her feet, threatening to suck her in. The sun moved behind a cloud, and Emma missed its warmth. Winter was coming; winter was definitely coming. Emma rubbed her arms trying to generate a little heat.

"Cold, love?" Hook asked softly.

"Yeah," she answered, "a little."

"Would you like my coat," he asked, "it provides an amazing amount of warmth."

Just the thought of wearing his leather coat provided an amazing amount of warmth. It would hold the feel of him, his heady scent. Emma felt her face flush.

"Uh," she stammered, "that's okay. We'll be there soon. Besides the cold keeps my mind sharp; helps me think."

"As you wish," he muttered and then lapsed back into his silence.

He really was an old fashioned man of chivalry. All in all, Emma thought the prophecy had at least one thing right; it wasn't far off to call him a knight. Could the rest of the prophecy prove correct as well?

At the very thought, the fear threatened again, and Emma forcefully put the prophecy from her mind. She'd think of the mission ahead. That was far safer ground.

Yesterday afternoon after Emma had finally recovered from the shock of Lancelot's revelation of the rest of the prophecy, she had returned to the men.

"Alright," she had said with determination.

"Are you quite well, lass?" Hook asked solicitously.

"Yeah," she said firmly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, and neither man answered.

"What's our next move?" she asked looking up at Lancelot. "What do we need to do to defeat Morgana?"

"It was promised in our land," Lancelot answered, "that as long as the Round Table is intact, peace and prosperity would reign in Camelot."

"So…" Emma began in confusion, "we need to start working on our carpentry skills? We need to repair a table?"

Lancelot chuckled, a deep rumble in his throat. "You're thinking far too literally, my lady."

"Then what? What are we supposed to do?" Emma asked in exasperation. She was in no mood for riddles…not when her parents' lives were in jeopardy.

"Patience, love," Hook cautioned. "Perhaps we need a little background information to fully grasp our task."

She shot him a furious glare, and he merely winked at her. Emma felt her face flame, and she turned back to Lancelot.

"Aye, lady," Lancelot answered gravely, "if you would indulge me a moment more, this information is crucial."

"Oh, alright," she grumbled.

"As I said," Lancelot continued, "in order to defeat Morgana, the Round Table must once again be whole and sound. I was banished to this land, but all the others fell under a curse, a curse that transported them all to other lands."

"The curse, _again_?" Emma muttered to herself. Both men ignored her.

"All twelve of the knights must be reassembled and present a united front, then Morgana can finally be defeated."

"But if all of the knights have been transported to different lands," Emma began feeling the hopeless weight of futility washing over her, "how the hell are we to find them all?"

Lancelot smiled. "Morgana may have been her own undoing in that regard," he answered. "She put a provision in the curse that should any of the knights regain his memory, he would be immediately transported to her own particular prison hidden deep in the dark woods."

"And you believe these knights remembered and were transported back?" Hook asked.

"Aye," Lancelot answered with a nod. "Several of my brother knights were brought here, to the Enchanted Forest. I've watched as one after another has simply disappeared without a trace. What other explanation could there be for their sudden disappearance?"

"So, we break them out of prison," Emma said, "how, exactly?"

"Your talismans," Lancelot answered gesturing to their entwined pendants.

"Then what?" Emma asked, "the knights all attack Morgana and she's defeated?"

"Not quite," Lancelot said gravely. "There is still the matter of the Table. It must be re-forged."

"Another job for us, right?" Emma asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Precisely, my lady," Lancelot answered. "In the chaos and confusion of the battle, you and your love must reach the table, place your glowing talismans in the very center of the table, and bring back the protective magic of Camelot. Then, and only then, will Morgana fall."

Emma was brought back to the present when Hook stopped abruptly beside her. She looked up. Fifty yards ahead, the desert ended abruptly and the lush woods of Camelot began. In the distance, Emma could see the magnificent turrets of Camelot's legendary castle. They had arrived.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook stopped and scanned the landscape. They'd crossed into Camelot about half an hour ago and there was no sign of a prison or any of the distinctive markers Lancelot had told them to look for. This Morgana must have hidden her prisoners well.

They would need to find shelter soon; the sun was beginning to set, and with it, it took what little warmth the day had provided. He worried that Emma would be cold with no more protection from the wind than her red jacket.

He looked a little more carefully at Emma's wardrobe. With her jeans, black top and boots, she would stick out like a sore thumb among the women of Camelot. Not good, not good at all. Why hadn't he thought to have her bring along some of her mother's dresses? The last thing they wanted to do was bring attention to themselves.

"Where could it be?" Emma asked in exasperation, running a hand through her luxurious hair. Who was he kidding? Regardless of her wardrobe, the lass's beauty would make them stand out. There wasn't a woman in a million who could hold a candle to his Emma.

"Hook!" the exasperation was ratcheted up to downright annoyance. "Are you paying any attention to me at all?"

"I'm always paying attention to you lass," he said with a grin, "but your dazzling beauty must have deafened me to your last statement."

She rolled her eyes. It was an improvement to the frightened, lost girl look she'd worn most of the day. Did the thought of loving him really repulse her that much? Oh, Lancelot claimed she loved him, but Hook had his doubts. Lancelot didn't know Emma as he did.

"I asked," Emma said clearly fighting to hold on to her patience, "where could it be? As in the prison…the whole reason we're in Camelot in the first place."

"Ah, the prison," Hook said with a playful snap of his fingers, "I knew there was something we were trying to find!"

She gave him the "look." The one that clearly stated she thought his intelligence was about on par with the slug he had just carefully avoided stepping in.

"Very well," he said with a sigh, "I don't know where the prison is, and what's more, I think we need to find shelter."

"Shelter?" Emma asked in annoyance. "Why would we need to find shelter? What we need to find are the knights in the prison."

"Aye," Hook said patiently, "but as thick as these woods are and as little moon as we're likely to have tonight, looking for a hidden prison would be an exercise in complete futility."

"So we just give up? Already?" Two angry spots of color appeared on her cheeks. The lass was working herself up into a fine temper. Hook best find a way to defuse it before he became a casualty.

"Nay, love," he said with a sigh, "we don't give up. We retrench, regroup and rest so that we are fresh for the search tomorrow. Our quest here in Camelot will be a matter of days, maybe even weeks rather than hours. One survives a long military campaign by taking the opportunities for rest when they present themselves."

"Alright," she said after a moment. The fight seemed to have gone out of her. The lass was under a great deal of stress, and Hook hated to see it. How he wished Lancelot hadn't informed her of the rest of the prophecy.

"So, what are we looking for in terms of shelter?" Emma asked, looking around.

"Perhaps we can find an abandoned barn or cottage?" Hook suggested.

"Well, let's get to it then," Emma said, trudging forward.

They'd walked for another five minutes when the sound of footsteps in the brush could be heard. Emma prepared to step forward to meet the stranger, but Hook stopped her with a hand to her arm.

"What?" she asked in a whisper.

"Let me do the talking lass?" He may have framed it as a question, but it was imperative she agree.

"Why?" she asked, the storm clouds gathering on her brow.

"If you recall," he said patiently, "we're trying to keep our mission rather covert. I'm far more accustomed to the habits and customs of those in this realm."

"Oh alright," she agreed quietly just as a rather non-descript young woman in a brown dress and tan apron came into view. She stopped suddenly at the sight of them, and brought one work-roughened hand to her chest in surprise.

Hook stepped forward. "Do not be afraid, my lady," he said gallantly, "we mean you no harm."

"Who might ye be?" she asked in a high, girlish voice.

"My name is Killian Jones," Hook said soothingly, "and this is my lady wife, Emma."

Hook heard a gasp behind him. _Don't give us away at the first test, love!_ As if she'd heard his thoughts, Emma stepped forward and threaded her fingers with his. He gave her hand a quick squeeze to show his approval.

The girl continued looking at them. Truth be told, she continued looking at Emma most curiously.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Jones," the girl said furrowing her brow, "but why are you dressed so outlandishly?"

Emma looked in surprise at her attire. She started to speak, but Hook cut her off.

"We've been walking some time now," he said putting on an aggrieved air. Not long hence, our cottage was burned down with all our possessions. All my Emma's dresses were lost; she's been forced to wear a stable boy's attire until we acquire the funds needed to replace her wardrobe."

The girl did not look convinced, but she finally nodded.

"As I said, lass," Hook continued, "our cabin has been destroyed. We have nowhere to go. Do you know of a place we may take shelter for the night?"

She gave them an assessing look. "Aye," she said finally. "There is an abandoned hunter's cottage a mile to the north."

"My thanks," Hook said with a bow.

To call it a cottage was charitable at best. Shack was a far better description. The decrepit building looked like it could fall over with the slightest breath of wind. At least it had a nice large fireplace, a sturdy table, and a comfortable looking bed. One bed. Well, that could be awkward.

As soon as Hook had ushered Emma into their temporary home, she rounded on him.

"Your _wife_?" she asked, her hands fisting on her shapely hips. "You called me _your wife_?!"

Hook raised his hand in surrender. "Easy darling," he said with a grin. "It was for your benefit I chose to…bend the truth, shall we say."

"For my benefit?" Emma asked skeptically. "How do you come to that conclusion."  
"Well, lass," he grinned stepping impossibly close to her. "Think of your reputation. Imagine the good residents of Camelot discovering you were living with a dashingly handsome pirate without the benefit of marriage."

He raised a hand and tangled it in her hair. Emma drew in a ragged breath and refused to look at him. _She wasn't immune to him; not immune to him at all._

"You think I care about my reputation in Camelot," she said a bit breathlessly.

Hook sobered. "You should, lass," he said. "You really should. For one thing, it wouldn't do to have undue scrutiny placed upon us. We'd best keep a low profile if we're to succeed in our quest."

"Yeah," she said reflectively, "I guess you're right about that."

"For another," he said looking deeply into her eyes, "you deserve to be treated with honor and respect like the precious jewel you are."

Her eyes softened for a moment, and then they flamed with an emotion Hook couldn't quite place. Fear? Desperation? Determination? They stood still, merely looking at each other for a beat in time.

Then she launched herself at him. Her mouth slammed into his with such explosive force Hook feared his lip would be bruised. She was ravenous, devouring him, fingers tangling in his hair, and then roaming over his neck and chest. She continued her not-so-gentle assault on his mouth as they sank together onto the bed.

Hook surrendered to her for a moment as need exploded within him. The lass was intoxicating, all-consuming. There was nothing but her and this fire between them that no amount of water could quench.

"Emma!" he moaned as he rained kisses from her jaw down to the hollow of her neck.

"Hook!" she breathed in a near whimper. He brought his mouth back to hers, desperate for more of her; he would never get enough. His hand tangled in the rich gold of her hair as he plundered her mouth like the pirate he was.

Abruptly, reason returned. What was he _doing_? Hadn't he just told her he meant to honor and respect her?

Hook pulled away, reluctantly.

"Slow down, love," he said in a shaky voice. "Slow down!"

She sat up slowly, pulling a hand through her considerably mussed hair.

"No," she said, and he was concerned to hear the panic beneath the breathlessness. "There's no time! We have to fall in love. Hook, we have to be in love!"

He pulled her into his arms and merely held her. "Nay, lass. Calm yourself," he said gently, stroking her hair. "We will prevail; come what may, we will prevail!"

She pulled away. "You heard Lancelot, Hook," she said. "You heard the prophecy! Our hearts have to be united in true love in order for us to succeed."

There was so much fear, so much trepidation in her eyes. Hook hurt for her. All he could do was stroke her hair, whisper inarticulate words of comfort.

She looked up at him suddenly with a new emotion. _Pain_.

"You…you told me you loved me," she said in an anguished voice. "Back in New York, you told me that."

"Aye, love," he answered in confusion.

"Was…" she started, then cleared her throat and looked away, idly playing with a loose thread on the bedspread. "Was that because of the prophecy? Were you just telling me what you thought I needed to hear?"

"Nay!" he said. How could she even think that? He gently raised her chin and looked into her green eyes. "Nay, Emma! I loved you long before I'd heard a word of the prophecy, and I swear to you I'll love you for years afterwards, come what may. In my heart, I've long since pledged myself irrevocably to you."

A tear traced its way down her cheek, and he caught it with his thumb. "Emma," he continued, "I desire your love more than I've desired anything in centuries, but I want it to be a free gift…not something you feel compelled to give me. I swear to you. _I swear to you!_ We will find a way to defeat Morgana and the Wicked Witch and save your family whether you're able to give me your love or not."

She nodded at him and smiled tremulously. Running her hand once more through her hair, she got to her feet and took a few steps over to the wooden table. Slowly she turned around and brought her eyes to his.

"Hook," she said hesitantly. "I just want you to know…it's not that I don't have feelings for you. I…I think I do. It's just…I'm terrified of what that means."

He smiled. "I know, love. I know."

They stayed there in companionable silence for some minutes. He didn't need his Emma to talk to him; he could read every emotion as it crossed her face.

"We will want to get an early start in the morning," Hook said, finally grabbing one of the soft, down pillows from the bed. "You'd best get some sleep, lass."

"Where are you going?" Emma asked gently as she pulled down the sheets.

"There's a soft bed of hay on the floor and an extra quilt in the corner," he said pointing toward said quilt. "I'll be quite comfortable on the ground by the fire."

She looked away. "You could share the bed with me if you wanted."

His heart raced at the very thought. "Nay, lass," he said ruefully. "I haven't that level of self-control."

She looked into his eyes. "Maybe I'm okay with that."

He groaned, closing his eyes. Had she any idea what she was doing to him.

"Nay, Emma," he said in a gravelly voice. "I meant what I said about honor. When I make you mine it will not be in desperation in a filthy shack. It will be an expression of our love, a consummation of the commitment we make to each other."

She smiled and nodded, climbing into the bed. "Sweet dreams, Hook."

He bent over her and placed his gentle lips on her smiling ones. "Good night, my Emma. I love you."

"Good."

_Notes__:_

_-Well, that got a little steamy there at the end. If Emma keeps launching herself at Hook like that, I'm going to have to up this story's rating!_

_-I fully intended to write about Morgana and her next attempt at the curse, but I just wasn't feeling it. I decided this would be a good time to bring Rumple—and a little Rumbelle angst—back into the mix. Morgana can wait for a couple chapters. If you were paying attention, you probably got a few interesting answers in the long long ago section._

_-Up next: Regina and Robin get to the castle, and Hook and Emma find the hidden prison. But things don't go quite as planned for either couple…in both cases with near-tragic results._


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

_Enchanted Forest, almost 9 months ago_

They were being followed. Robin had known that almost from the moment they'd set out. It was the little things, a twig snapping, the rustling of fallen leaves when the wind was still, another set of lungs breathing. Aye, they were definitely being followed.

The question was by whom? Robin's first suspicion had been the witch's flying monkeys, but that wasn't right. The creatures had likely never even heard of the concept of subtlety. No, if the monkeys had an interest in him or the evil queen they would have stopped them from the start.

A twig snapped again, and Robin shot out a hand to stop Regina, retrieving his crossbow with his other hand.

"What?" she asked in a soft voice.

Robin put his finger to his lips and listened. All was still and quiet. He continued to listen closely, standing as still as a statue. Where had the sound come from? If he could locate their tail, he could apprehend him, determine his motive.

But there was no renewal of sound. The follower was good, very good. Robin let out the breath he'd been holding and slung his bow over his back. He'd have to hope the man made a mistake, betrayed his position.

"What was that all about?" Regina whispered.

"I think we're being followed, Your Majesty," Robin answered in a low tone.

"Why? By whom?"

"Well, that is the question," he answered, once again striding forward.

"Aren't you going to go look for him?" Regina asked. There was a slight edge to her voice. It grated on Robin's nerves.

"Nay," he answered. "He's a quite skillful hunter. By now he's long gone. To search for him would be mere folly and would waste precious time."

To his surprise she nodded. "Okay," she said, "I trust your judgment."

If he didn't know better, he would swear she was sincere. He didn't hear a hint of sarcasm in her reply.

They walked in silence for another moment or two, Robin focused on listening, watching.

"So, what's our plan?" Regina asked softly. "We'll reach the bridge leading to the castle in no time; we need to have our plan in place."

Robin looked to the sky. The sun was just beginning to set. "We'd best stop and wait for a while, Your Majesty."

"Wait?" Regina asked incredulously. "Why should we wait? I'd prefer to get this quest completed and get the hell away!"

"Aye, Your Majesty," Robin said, a slight edge to his voice. "That would be an excellent plan if your aim is to get captured five minutes into the operation."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The bridge to the castle is open, completely without shade or cover. In the light of day, we'd be spotted in a moment. If we wait for cover of darkness, we're far more likely to arrive at the castle with the stealth we need."

"Yes," Regina said reflectively, "I guess that makes sense. So we wait for nightfall. What then?"

"Firstly," Robin said looking at her luxurious raven hair hanging down, the sides held back by a simple clip, "we must do something about your appearance."

"My appearance?" Regina asked looking down at her deep purple dress. "What's wrong with my appearance?"

"You're far too beautiful," Robin answered with a scowl.

She looked taken aback, her soft hand coming to cover her ruby-red lips. "Th..thank you, Robin," she stammered.

"It wasn't a compliment!" he growled, angry with himself more than anything. Why the hell was he so drawn to her?

"Okay…" she said, drawing out the word.

"That hair, that dress," he said gesturing vaguely toward her, "They are far too noticeable."

Not to mention the scent of roses that clung to her. He rather thought roses suited her, deep, blood-red roses. They were dramatic, intoxicating.

Regina immediately unclasped her hair and shook it for a moment. Robin's intake of breath was sharp. What was she trying to _do_ to him? A moment later, she gathered the entire mane at the nape of her neck and twisted until she'd formed a bun at the back of her head. She secured the whole with her discarded clasp.

"Okay," she said crisply, "the hair is contained. What do you propose I do about the dress?"

With difficulty, Robin dragged his gaze from her and transferred it to the satchel he wore belted at his waist. Rummaging around for a moment, he drew out a forest-green hooded cloak.

"Here," he said, thrusting it roughly at her, "Put this on. When we reach the bridge, draw up the hood."

Regina slipped on the cloak and pulled the voluminous hood over her head. "Better?" she asked snidely. "Is my 'beauty' sufficiently hidden now?"

_Not even close._ Best he not even attempt to answer that question.

"So, I'm camouflaged," she said, "What's the plan?"

We wait for nightfall, make sure there are no guards on the bridge, and then cross it as fast as possible," Robin began. "Take us to the castle door closest to the room you need to reach. Then we wait, do some surveillance."

"Surveillance?" she asked.

"Aye," he answered with a decisive nod of his head. "We must know how many are guarding the castle, their habits, ways to distract them. After that, somehow we get into the castle."

Regina scoffed, and he turned toward her in outrage. "What?" he thundered.

She held up her hands. "Magic, remember?" she asked snidely. "A simple locked door won't provide me so much as a challenge."

"I'm not likely to forget your magic anytime soon," he said coldly.

"No," she said, dropping her eyes and picking at her skirt, "I don't suppose you will."

The anger threatened to rise again, but Robin forced it back down. Emotion had no place in a quest as dangerous as this. Emotion was what got a man killed.

"Once inside the castle," Robin continued in a neutral voice, "I lead, make sure the coast is clear, and get you to your chamber. You retrieve the potion, and we get out as quickly as possible."

"Simple," Regina said. "Clean, without frills. I like that."

_Simple_. Aye, so it should be. This was by no means the most dangerous or difficult heist he'd attempted. Why then did he have a nearly inescapable feeling that something was going to go wrong…terribly, tragically wrong?

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

The first phase of the quest went well. As planned, they'd waited for nightfall. This particular night seemed tailor-made for covert operations. There was no moon, and a thick cloud cover blotted out the light of the stars.

Regina had waited for Robin's signal, then pulled her hood over her head and sprinted across the bridge, trying to make as little sound as possible.

When they reached the far side of the bridge, Regina beckoned to Robin and pointed toward the left. There was an old entrance near the back of the castle which would be perfect for their purposes.

Regina remembered the first time she'd learned of the existence of this particular secret passage. It was the day after she'd become engaged to King Leopold. Snow had followed her around like an eager little puppy, seeming to have a major case of hero-worship for the woman who'd saved her life. Regina had felt sorry for the poor little girl. She clearly missed her mother and was ecstatic at the thought of having a stepmother.

Snow had led Regina up to her bed chamber, which happened to be situated very near the king's mater suite.

"I have something to show you," Snow had said earnestly, "but you have to swear never to tell anyone; it's a secret!"

_Oh the irony!_

Snow had walked to her bookshelf and pulled out an old copy of Aesop's Fables. The bookshelf swung forward revealing a dark passage. Regina had followed the little girl through the passage and found herself walking out of an old door on the side of the castle. It was almost completely hidden by vines and bracken.

This secret passage was by far the best chance Regina and Robin had to enter the castle undetected. It was so dark tonight, and the foliage had grown up so much, that it took Regina some time to locate the door.

The timing seemed perfect. The front and back entrances were heavily guarded. Several winged monkeys armed with clubs and staffs marched in formation back and forth while they sung a deep, wordless tune. The hidden door, however was free of any guard.

Regina stepped forward, preparing to magically open the passageway, but Robin pulled her back.

"No!" he whispered. "We must wait, make sure the witch doesn't have anyone to patrol these grounds."

She nodded and fell back beside him into the shelter of a large oak tree. Not two minutes after they'd stepped away from the door, a company of five winged monkeys marched into sight. Regina exhaled a sigh of relief. If it hadn't been for Robin and his quick thinking, they would have been caught.

The guard passed by and slipped out of sight. Regina looked to Robin, but he shook his head. "We need to see how often they send patrols," he'd whispered into her ear.

She nodded.

Five minutes later, another group of guards passed. Still Robin remained stationary. Five minutes later there was another guard. They waited half an hour, watching armed guards march past every five minutes.

Finally, after the last group had passed, Robin waved Regina forward and she ran almost soundlessly to the door. She tried the knob, but as she expected, it was locked. Regina closed her eyes, focused her mind on how deeply she hated this witch, how much she wanted to defeat her. She felt the warm rush of magic flow through her arms, down to her fingertips. She focused all her attention on the door, and it swung forward.

Robin rushed in and waited for her to follow. Regina's hand was on the door, ready to swing it shut, when they heard it. A cry. A child's cry. Beside her, Robin stiffened and launched himself out the door. He swiveled his head this way and that, looking for the source of the sound.

A couple minutes passed, and no further sound was heard, but Robin continued to stare into the darkness.

"Come on!" Regina hissed, "the guard will be back any minute!"

Her voice seemed to get his attention. He rushed forward and shut the door behind him just as the first of the monkey guards turned the corner toward them.

"Must have been my imagination," Robin muttered to himself.

"I beg your pardon?" Regina asked politely as she followed Robin up the dank, stone stairs.

"Nothing," he said brusquely. "Tell me again of the layout. Where will this passage take us?"

"The passage opens to the nursery," Regina whispered struggling to keep up with him as he sprinted up the stairs. "When we get out, the door to the hallway will be directly in front of us. Once we're in the hallway, the master suite is two doors down."

Robin nodded, but said nothing more. His focus as he set their plan into motion was impressive. A large, hairy spider dropped from the wall onto his neck, and he didn't show the least acknowledgement. Regina pulled the creature up by the thread to which it was still attached, and threw it aside.

"My thanks," Robin said absently as he took the last few steps to the door at the top of the hall.

Robin put his ear to the door at the top of the stairway. Regina waited, silent. After a moment, Robin nodded slightly and slowly, noiselessly eased the door open.

"The room is empty, Your Majesty," he whispered. He took the rather substantial step into the room and then turned to offer her his hand.

"Thank you," Regina whispered, surprised at the warmth that spread through her at his gallantry.

So far so good. They'd made it into the castle without a hitch. Regina followed Robin through the nursery. Once again, Robin paused to listen before slowly opening the door. He stepped out and then turned to beckon her forward.

And then their luck ran out. Regina had no sooner stepped out of the nursery door before a huge monkey dressed in a military uniform and black shako turned the corner and came right toward them. The beast stopped for a moment in surprise, and then opened its mouth, clearly intending to call for reinforcements.

Regina raised her hands and shot a spell at him, but nothing happened. She looked in confusion at her hands. Why wasn't it working?

"Now's the time for some of that magic, Your Majesty!" Robin whispered to her, drawing his bow and fitting it with an arrow.

"Don't you think I'm trying?" Regina shot back. "Something's wrong. It's not working here."

"Try harder!" Robin whispered furiously as he let his arrow fly. It hit the monkey straight through the heart and it crashed to the ground. "We don't have much time, and we've got to get into the room."

Regina raced to the door to the master suite. She concentrated all her energy on the doorknob, focused her anger and anxiety, her grief for Henry, every strong emotion she'd ever felt.

But nothing happened. The sound of footsteps coming echoed along the stone stairs that led down to the great hall. They had little more than seconds before they were spotted again! She _had _to get that door open.

"Get your bow ready just in case," she shot over her shoulder as she focused once again on the door. "If things don't turn around, we're going to have to fight our way out of here!"

Regina saw the shadows of the guards as they walked up the stairs, any second they would be spotted!

Finally, the lock sprung. Regina shoved the door open, pulled Robin in after her, and noiselessly shut them in the master suite.

"What was that?" Robin hissed. "I thought you had powerful magic!"

"I don't know!" Regina growled, pacing restlessly looking for the corner she'd hidden her trunk. "It's not working here. Maybe the witch's enchanted the castle to repel magic or something."

"Great," Robin said sarcastically.

"It's got to be somewhere around here," Regina said moving to the armoire under the window. "I know I put it here."

There was a shout from the hallway. The monkey guards must have discovered their fallen companion. There was no time to waste.

"How are we even going to get out of here once I have the potion?" Regina asked.

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," Robin said. "First just get what we came for."

Regina's hand connected with something solid. Her trunk. She needed her magic to uncloak it. She focused every ounce of her energy on the two square feet before her, and slowly an elaborately decorated silver trunk emerged.

Throwing one last burst of magic at the trunk, it sprung open, and Regina fell back utterly spent. Never had she been forced to expend so much energy to perform simple acts of magic.

In a moment Robin was at her side. "Are you quite well, Your majesty?" he asked stooping to help her to her feet.

"Yes," she said slowly. "That took quite a bit more energy than I expected.

More shouts from outside the door. Regina heard the sound of doors opening and then being slammed shut. It seemed the monkeys were searching the castle, looking for the intruders.

Shaking her head to clear the fatigue, Regina turned back toward the chest and began frantically rummaging through. _Come on! I know you're in here!_ She'd use a summoning spell, but she didn't think she had the strength for that.

Finally her hand closed around the small vial of amber-colored liquid. And then a shrill, almost animal shriek pierced the air.

Regina froze, staring in dismay at Robin. What was going on here?

A moment later, the chamber filled with black smoke. The witch was coming! Regina stepped back until she was pressed up against Robin.

"Your Majesty?" he asked in confusion, his hands automatically coming to close around her shoulders.

"Take it!" she hissed over her shoulders. "She'll search me; she won't expect you to have a magic potion.

Regina felt Robin take the vial of potion and hoped he had time to conceal it. The smoke cleared, and the witch appeared.

"So kind of you to finally call on my, _your majesty_," the witch said in a silky voice. Her left hand caressed the wand she held in her right, her long red nails clicking along the smooth ebony wood.

Regina made no reply.

"But rather rude," the witch continued walking forward and slowly circling the pair. "Coming to my own private chamber and rummaging through my trunks. Tsk, tsk. Shocking lack of manners."

She walked to Robin Hood and ran her green hand along his bow. "And killing my guard? Well that showed no manners at all."

"It might be a shocking lack of manners," Regina sneered back, having no intention of showing intimidation, "if it wasn't _my_ chamber and _my_ trunk I was raiding."

The witch growled and was in Regina's face in a moment. "I am the ruler here!" she spat, "the sole ruler, and anyone who doesn't understand that will feel my wrath!"

Regina kept her face carefully neutral. She knew how to deal with megalomaniacs. Don't give them the reaction they want.

"What did you take?" The witch spat. "Hand it back to me and I may let you live."

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Regina said with a sneer raising her hands before her. "As you can see I have nothing."

The witch gave her an assessing look and then waved her hand. The black smoke appeared again.

"You won't cooperate willingly?" she asked nastily. "Perhaps you will be more cooperative when you see the kind of…leverage…I have at my disposal."

The smoke cleared, and suddenly the witch was not alone.

"Roland!" Robin chocked out from behind her. "Roland, lad, what are you doing here?"

"The witch grabbed the boy's arm so roughly he let out a little cry.

"Papa, I'm sorry!" the little boy sobbed. "I followed you. I wanted to join your adventure. I'm sorry."

"Papa is it?" the witch said with a decidedly nasty smile. "Well listen up, 'Papa'. Give me what I want or your dear fool of a son will die. Slowly, exquisitely painfully."

"Nay!" Robin yelled, rushing forward. The witch raised a hand and Robin was blasted backwards into the far wall."

The rage began building within Regina. Mess with her, mess with Robin, mess with an adult who could fight back, fine! Mess with a helpless child, and prepare to feel the wrath of an angry mother!

She raised her hand, knowing the magic would work. A fire ball flew from each hand and hit the witch square on the chest. Her grip was loosened, and Regina shot forward gripping the boy. She pulled him behind her as the witch struggled to get back to her feet.

"Take him!" Regina shouted behind her at Robin. "Take him and leave! Get him to safety!"

"What about you, Your Majesty," he asked from the doorway.

"Don't worry about me!" she said, "I can handle this. You have to get Roland out of here!"

And then Robin and his boy were gone. Regina turned around just in time to see the witch raise her wand. And then she was falling backward, rocked by the force of the witch's spell. Her head connected with the corner of the still-open trunk, and the stars began to swim before her vision.

_Camelot, present day_

Morgana slowly walked through the castle gardens. She'd planted the magnificent horticultural feat the year she became queen as a memorial for her beloved Mordred. As she walked the stone pathway, she stopped from time to time to smell a rose, to touch the delicate petals of a morning glory. Magic truly was a marvel. Here it was, the end of November, and yet thanks to magic her glorious flowers bloomed even yet.

A man cleared his throat behind her.

"Pardon, Your Majesty," he said. Morgana turned and focused her blue eyes on the man standing beneath the ivy trellis.

"Yes?" she asked, recognizing the man as one of her personal soldiers. "What is it?"

"There's a woman here to see you, Majesty," he said with a bow. "She claims it's urgent."

"Her name?" Morgana asked.

"Margaret," the man answered. "She claims to have information you needed to know immediately."

Margaret? Was that the little mousy girl who lived on the border of Camelot? What could she want?'

"Very well," Morgana said with a wave of her hand. "Send her in."

A moment later a non-descript young woman wearing a brown skirt and tan apron walked meekly into the garden.

"My soldier tells me you have important news," Morgana said.

"Aye," the girl said tremulously, refusing to look up. "You told me to alert you should any strangers appear."

Morgana felt a chill of dread. _No_! She would stay calm. Surely it wasn't the prophesied knight and his lady! It couldn't be them.

Morgana cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Describe them."

"The man was handsome with dark hair and eyes as blue as yours. The woman was blonde, and wore the strangest clothing I've ever seen…a red jacket and form-fitting breeches."

"And their jewelry!" Morgana said insistently. "Were they wearing any jewelry?"

"Aye," the woman said slowly. "The woman wore a silver circlet around her neck, and the man wore a chain with a couple of different pendants."

"Was one of them a cross?" Morgana asked, her voice rising in hysteria.

The woman looked frightened out of her wits. "I…I couldn't tell for sure, but I think so."

_No!_ How could this be happening!

Morgana dismissed the girl and began pacing her garden taking no notice of the flowers she trampled. What was she to do? How was she to address this threat?

First she must determine if they truly were the couple from the prophecy. If they were the couple, they would be bound by true love. How was she to test for true love?

Suddenly an idea took wing. A beautiful, diabolical idea. The archers must be sent out to the hills surrounding her prison immediately.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o_

"I think I see something!" Emma breathed, pointing forward. Hook turned in the direction she indicated.

Shading his eyes from the blinding light of the sun, he looked forward. "Maybe so, darling," he agreed, "maybe so."

Emma had awoken to a nasty crick in her neck this morning. Hook may have believed he was being gallant, offering her the bed, but she'd wager he had a softer spot on the ground! When she'd gotten up, he was already at the table, drinking a cup of coffee, an annoyingly cheerful grin draping his face.

"My lady has awakened at last," he said with a mock bow. "I was beginning to fear you'd fallen under a sleeping curse. I was prepared to come kiss you awake…as soon as I'd finished my coffee."

Emma rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the smile from her lips. Truth be told, there would be far worse ways to be awoken than with Hook's kiss.

"Maybe next time you won't stand on ceremony," she shot back with a saucy grin.

Hook choked on the sip of coffee he'd taken. Oh, but it felt good to fluster _him _for a change! She walked over and poured herself a cup of the strong, black brew. _Elixir of life_ she thought to herself taking the first sip. Maybe after a cup or two she'd be back to feeling human.

"So what's the plan for today?" Emma asked idly as she sat across from him.

"Well," he said with a purely wicked gleam in his eyes. "I thought, first I would have you make me breakfast, and then we can resume searching for the prison."

"You thought that, huh?" Emma asked with a quirk of her brow. "What made you think that?"

"Well," he said brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, his grin still in place. "You are, after all, my 'wife'. Isn't cooking part of the purview of the obedient wife?"

"Really?" she asked striving valiantly to keep the grin from her face. "Hook, if you think I'd ever be anyone's 'obedient wife' you clearly don't know me at all!"

He laughed. "Aye," he said, "and it makes you the woman that you are. I wouldn't want you any other way, my love."

She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

In the end, they'd prepared breakfast together, after which they'd set off on their quest. Now three hours later they had caught sight of the first promising lead they had gotten all day.

There, nestled amid hills on three sides stood an enormous cave. An iron gate with a wide slit about eye level was fixed to the front.

"This looks promising, lass!" Hook said as they moved closer and closer. "This definitely looks promising!"

They rushed up to the gate and peered in. It was pitch black inside, and Emma could only barely discern the outlines of several men sitting against the back wall.

"Hello!" she called in, "is anyone there?"

One of the men got to his feet and moved toward the gate.

"Hook," she said, "I think this is it! Give me your talisman."

She turned to watch him pull the chain from around his neck, and something caught her eye. It was a glint up in the hills. She looked more closely.

That was an archer! He had an arrow trained right at Hook! Emma saw what was going to happen a moment before it did. Panic exploded in her chest. She couldn't lose, Hook! She couldn't.

Emma ran forward at top speed and launched herself toward him just as the archer let his arrow fly. She roughly pushed him forward as a sharp, blinding pain ripped through her right shoulder.

"Emma!" She heard his panicked shout as though from far away. She looked up into his beloved blue eyes as everything suddenly went dark.

_Notes_

_-This chapter came together really fast!_

_-Ok, first I'd like to apologize for leaving both storylines on a bit of a cliffhanger, but I've got to do something to keep you coming back, right? :-p The last chapter or two have been pretty introspective, so I thought it was time for a little action._

_-Now before you get too mad at me for leaving both Regina and Emma in pretty desperate straits, just keep in mind that I'm a big proponent of happy endings—something that doesn't tend to happen when the female half of both of your main love stories dies!_

_-Up next: Long, long ago, Rumple travels to Camelot to collect his favor. He helps Morgana figure out what she needs to do to cast a successful curse, and she manages to send Sir Galahad to a certain land without magic….hmm…. In present day Camelot, Hook takes Emma back to their cottage and desperately tried to tend to her wound, but she's just not improving. In desperation, he goes in search of a healer. Guess which healer he happens to find? Should he trust her advice or medicine?_

_-One last note. I'm a bit under the weather today, so I decided to try a cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon in honor of our favorite show. Never had hot chocolate with cinnamon before, but I can now conclusively report that it's kind of awesome._


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_Camelot, long long ago_

Morgana stood back impassively as she watched Black send wave after wave of magic at the wretched man chained to the wall of the castle dungeon. He grunted, but didn't fall to the floor. Morgana shook her head. Clearly her protégé had a lot to learn; that spell _should_ have the man writing on the ground in enough agony to make him insane.

Black's frustration was evident. The language spewing from her mouth would make a sailor blush.

"Language, language, Black," Morgana chided. "A lady must be refined. She must speak in calm measured tones. Even while torturing, the niceties must be observed."

Black turned from the man and skewered her with a disbelieving glare. "Morgana," she said pointing at the man, "this…_toad_ dared to defy me. _To my face!_ You wish me to be calm and measured with him?"

"Ye will not get away with this!" the man growled in defiance. "'Tis rank injustice! The king shall hear of your perfidy!"

Morgana flicked a lazy hand at the man, and he doubled over in pain.

"The king knows nothing of this dungeon cell, vermin," Morgana said coldly. "You'll be nothing but a moldy pile of bones before anyone finds you."

The man stood up defiantly and spat at her feet. Morgana rolled her eyes, flicked her wrist and the man fell over, unconscious.

"You are not a common shrew, Black," Morgana said struggling for patience. "You are a lady, and as such you must comport yourself as one. Do you wish to return to the Enchanted Forest? Get the revenge you so richly deserve? Take your proper place as ruler of said kingdom? Then you must learn to control your temper. Act like a ruler and you will be taken as one."

Black took several slow deep breaths, a calming technique Morgana had taught her when she first arrived in Camelot. Good. The fairy was finally learning.

"You are correct, Morgana," Black said slowly, "as always."

"Good dear," Morgana crooned. "Now, finish punishing yon scoundrel and then make your way back to my chamber. I may have need of you."

"Very well," Black said as she turned back to the man lying at her feet.

Morgana slowly walked up the three flights of stairs and down the hall until she reached her chamber. Fifteen years since she cast the curse. Fifteen, long, uneventful years.

For years she had tried to find a way to cast it again…stronger this time. Until Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot were gone, none of her carefully laid plans could go into effect. The Round Table was still frustratingly solid and intact, so likewise was Arthur's grip on the country.

Where Arthur was concerned, she had made some headway. Each day he seemed to take more and more stock of her advice and counsel. He and Guinevere seemed to trust her implicitly. _Fools_.

Aye, it wouldn't be long before she was the de facto ruler of Camelot, wouldn't be long before she could bend the king and queen entirely to her will, but it wasn't good enough. It wasn't nearly good enough! She didn't want to merely be the shadow-ruler of Camelot. She wanted to be queen in every sense of the word.

Morgana carefully opened her trunk and fingered the curse once more. What was she missing? What did she need to cast an effective curse? _Merlin_. She needed Merlin.

Throughout the years she'd watched the sorcerer in the magic mirror and had learned much about him. He was known variously as the Dark One and as Rumplestiltskin in his own land. He had a son named Baelfire that he loved to distraction…a son who had left him, fallen through a portal many, many years ago. His wife had run away with a handsome pirate. He had subsequently hunted the pair down, killed his wife and relieved said pirate of his left hand.

It may be that some of this knowledge could come in handy. It may be it would give her an upper hand in their upcoming meeting. Because meet they would. Morgana was determined! He _would _come to her, and he _would _help her destroy the Table!

"Rumplestiltskin, I summon thee!" she said clearly to her empty room.

Nothing happened. She looked around, checking each corner of the room, peering under her bed, opening her wardrobe. Nothing.

"Rumplestiltskin," she shouted.

"You don't have to shout, dearie," came a snide voice from behind her, "I'm not _deaf_."

She spun around so quickly her skirt flared out, knocking a drinking glass from her bedside table. It shattered on the ground. Morgana cursed softly as she waved her hand, making the shards vanish.

There he sat in her formal, brocade armchair, one leg crossed over the other. He wore an outlandishly elaborate doublet that rather clashed with his sparkly golden face. A self-satisfied grin draped his face.

"Yes, well," she said uncomfortably, "I thought you would make a grander entrance."

He waved his hand with a little flourish. "I'm the Dark One, dearie," he said with a little laugh, "I have no need for theatrics; my whole persona is grand on its own."

Morgana rolled her eyes. A pity she needed his help, he really did get on her nerves.

"I trust you're wondering why I called you here," she said crisply.

"Actually, no," he said. "That is a riddle I perfectly know the answer to."

"Really?" Morgana said with a raised eyebrow, "I highly doubt that."

"Your little curse didn't go as planned, dearie," he said settling back into his chair, "and you want me to work some of my magic to help clean up your little knight problem."

There was that annoyingly flamboyant little wave of the hand again.

"Aye," she answered. "And as you've come, I assume that means you accede to my request."

"Actually," he said, "I've just been waiting for an opportunity to come. I've been busy with a little venture into the world of literature and was rather eager to see how my literary masterpiece was received."

"And?" she asked with a bored look. "Did you achieve the hoped for success?"

"You tell me?" he said with a giggle. "It seems my books rather _arrested_ my readers' attention. Curiously, it seems that a certain _prison_ of yours began to fill up at nearly the same time."

Morgana drew in a sharp breath. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? For the past three years, one after another of the knights had arrived in her special prison, their memories back intact. Had that been _Merlin's_ doing?

"What do you want?" Morgana asked coldly.

"You owe me a favor, and I'm here to collect," he answered firmly. "But it might be that our little interaction could be mutually beneficial. Give me a look in _my _magic mirror, dearie, and I might just help you with your little knight problem."

_He wants to look in the mirror? Why?_

"Very well," Morgana said with a sigh. She rummaged for a moment in her elaborately decorated silver trunk until her hand closed around the mirror. "Here."

Merlin took the mirror carefully, almost reverently. Peering intently into it he spoke softly, carefully enunciating every word.

"Show me Baelfire."

The mirror swirled, and then settled on an image. A young teenaged boy with a curly brown mop of hair sat alone in a cave. He sat on a ledge covered with a large pillow. He was drawing a picture of a large house on the wall with a piece of chalk.

"Where is that?" Morgana breathed. "I've never seen a cave like that in Fairytale Land before."

Merlin ignored her and kept watching the mirror. Suddenly Baelfire was joined by another boy.

"Baelfire," he called in a sing-song voice, "your time is up. It's time you join us. Let's play."

Baelfire gave the other boy a rather rude hand gesture. In a moment a slightly larger, blond boy stormed into the cave and pulled Baelfire up by the scruff of his neck.

"Didn't you hear him?" he asked in a cold, almost dead voice. "It's time for a game, and Peter Pan never loses."

Beside her, Merlin growled. "No!" he spat, "he can't be _there!_"

"Where?" Morgana asked.

Merlin ignored her. "Show me Baelfire's future," he said.

The images sped up as a little calendar appeared in the lower left corner of the mirror. Merlin continued watching until Baelfire left the dark jungle and landed in a strange new land. He stood before a road sing that said "Welcome to Boston."

"Where is 'Boston'?" Morgana asked.

"A land without magic," Merlin answered. "A land Baelfire tried valiantly to convince me to accompany him."

Morgana waited another moment, and finally Merlin set the mirror back in its place in her trunk. He stood, looking reflectively into the trunk, seemingly lost in his own bitter thoughts. Morgana was losing her patience.

"You saw what you wanted," Morgana said in annoyance. "Now it's time you fulfill your end of the bargain. Help me cat my curse!"

He turned to her, looking surprised, as though he had forgotten she was there.

"Very well," he said with a little sigh. "Tell me, in detail, what you did when you cast the curse the first time."

Morgana patiently explained her process and exactly what happened when the curse was cast.

Merlin chortled. "Well, there's your problem dearie!" he said gleefully. "A curse as powerful as this requires much more than charm and malice. It requires sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" Morgana asked in confusion.

Merlin's grin turned evil. "If you wish the curse to succeed, you must rip out and crush the heart of the person you love most."

"My assistant, Black, will be here any moment," Morgana said with as much confidence as she could mutter. "She's showed me extreme devotion. Her heart will do quite nicely."

"Your assistant?" Merlin chortled again, steepling his hands before him. "Come now, dearie. You can do better than that! Use the heart of your assistant and you won't send Sir Galahad farther away than Agrabah!"

Anguish swamped Morgana. The person she loved most? _Mordred? _Nay! It was too much; surely he didn't mean her beloved Mordred!

"The question is," Merlin said softly, "does the fearsome Morgana Le Fay have the strength to do what it takes to get her crown, or does she not?"

The steel entered Morgana's spine. She'd do anything to get the position she deserved. Anything! She walked purposefully to the door and stepped out. "Mordred!" she called. "I have need of you!"

As she stood waiting for her beloved brother to come to her, come to his death, she forced herself to think ahead. She couldn't focus on what she was about to do; she'd lose her nerve. She had to focus on the curse. Where should she send Galahad and Lancelot? How about that town Baelfire had made his way to? Boston, wasn't it?

What name should she give Galahad in the new land? Something non-descript, embarrassingly pedestrian. As Mordred opened his own chamber door and began walking toward her, it came to her. She would name him Greg Smith.

_Camelot, present day_

Morgana paced her chamber restlessly. It couldn't be happening! All her carefully laid plans were starting to crumble! The knight and his lady fair were here! Here, in Camelot! Oh, she still didn't have the proof she needed, but she knew it was them, knew it as well as she knew her own name. She had worked far, far too hard to have it all ripped away by a pair of lovers!

How was she to deal with this threat? At first she had thought to kill both the man and the woman…or to steal their talismans…or both, but none of those ideas truly had merit. If they were truly in love with each other, would she even be able to steal from them or kill them? Perhaps their true love would protect them from her perfidious plans. Even if she managed to kill them, would the bond of their love be enough to enable a new couple to take their place? She couldn't take that chance. She must find a way to kill their love.

A sharp rap sounded on her door.

"Enter!" she called sharply.

The captain of her personal guards stepped in and bowed with military precision.

"You have news?" she asked hurriedly.

"Indeed, Your Majesty," the man answered in a deep, booming voice. "Your orders were carried out."

"Successfully?" she asked.

"Of course," the man answered without inflection.

"Describe the scene," Morgana insisted, "What happened?"

The man nodded his acquiesnce. "My archer aimed for the man, but the woman caught sight of him just in time. She pushed the man out of danger and took the arrow herself."

She _sacrificed_ herself for him? That didn't bode well. That didn't bode well at all! One of the prime elements of true love was self-sacrifice.

"She was not killed, was she?"

"No, Your Majesty," the guard answered. "The wound was superficial, but the lass appeared to be in considerable pain."

Well she should. Morgana had dipped the archer's arrows in poison before she'd sent him out…the same poison she'd used on the queen so many years ago. It was guaranteed to produce horrific pain and eventual death.

Morgana went to her potions room and glanced through the brightly colored bottles. She selected a dull gray one, unstopped it and took a swig. The knight would need a healer soon, and she aimed to be the one on hand.

Morgana stood before her mirror and watched as her beautiful raven hair receded into her scalp, her smooth flawless skin became wrinkled and pocked with age spots, her statuesque physique shrunk and she became hunched. She smiled to herself. Where a moment ago a beautiful young woman had stood, there was now a hideous old woman. Even if the knight had heard nasty rumors of the beautiful, evil enchantress who ruled Camelot, he would put his trust in the kindly old crone.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Emma!" Hook screamed, getting to his feet and rushing to her prone form. "No!"

She'd been hit. There was blood everywhere. Oh God! No! This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose her. Panic buzzed in his brain like a hive of angry bees as he reached her side.

She lay on her left side, an arrow protruding from just below her right shoulder. Her eyes were closed. She couldn't be…he couldn't even think it. With shaking fingers, Hook brushed her tangled hair aside and placed two fingers against her neck. He felt a pulse. It was there, firm and strong beneath his fingers. He blew out a relieved breath. _Thank you, God!_

With the first chill of panic over, it occurred to Hook that he and Emma were in terrible danger remaining out in the open while someone hunted them. Rage ripped through him, familiar as his well-worn leather coat. It was the rage he'd lived with for three hundred years. He longed to strike out, hurt, kill. Everything in him screamed to run off into the hills and find the bloody wretch who had endangered his Emma…to find him and to bury his hook so deeply in him that they'd never get it out!

But he couldn't indulge the thought. Emma needed help. He had to get her to safety, had to see to her wound. Hook scanned the hills quickly, making sure they were in no imminent danger, and then rush back to Emma.

She hadn't yet moved or stirred. Why? The wound looked superficial; the lass shouldn't be in such dangerous straits.

Hook gently picked her up, careful to jostle her wounded shoulder as little as possible. Emma moaned softly.

"Shh, love," he crooned, "I've got you. Be still love; I'll tend your wound once we've reached safety."

Emma made no further sound as Hook sprinted back toward their cabin. They had wandered around for some three hours this morning, looking for the prison, but if he didn't miss his mark…and he rarely did, navigation was his specialty…they were scarcely a mile from their dwelling.

Hook prayed they wouldn't meet with any resistance; he didn't have a hand free to fight. Pirate though he was, his prayers were answered. Fifteen minutes later they arrived back at the cabin unimpeded.

Hook propped Emma on the bed and removed the arrow as gently as he could. He snapped the shaft and pushed it through. Emma moaned again, and Hook caressed her face. After removing her jacket and the tank-top below, Hook unstopped his flask and poured his entire store of rum onto her still-bleeding wound.

As soon as the liquor met Emma's skin, her eyes shot open and she screamed in agony. The scream went on and on, ripping and clawing at Hook. Emma drummed her heals against the threadbare comforter, her whole body jerking in agony.

What was wrong? The wound would be painful, of course, but it shouldn't elicit this response. Emma was so strong, such a fighter. A flesh wound like this shouldn't reduce her to mindless agony. Hook peered down at the puncture wounds on Emma's back and chest. Something was amiss. They bubbled and festered, greenish pus leaking out along with the blood. What was he to do?

Hook bound the wounds as well as he could, and Emma's screams gradually diminished. Whether because the pain was subsiding or because her strength was fading, Hook didn't know.

By the time Hook had made Emma as comfortable as he could, the sun had long since set. Hook climbed up on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, settling her gently against his chest. He kissed her cheek and crooned inarticulate words of comfort to her. Finally after long minutes, he fell asleep.

It was the lass's thrashing and muttering that woke him early the next morning. She was hot, feverish. Damp tendrils of her hair clung to her face. Hook checked her wounds and cursed fluently under his breath. The bleeding had stopped, but the festering and bubbling had only increased. The skin around the wounds was swollen, red, hot to the touch. The lass was fading fast and there was nothing, _nothing_ he could do for her.

Hook gently bound her wounds once more and then began pacing the small cabin. What was he to do? He couldn't lose her. She was the most precious thing in the world to him. If he lost her he would be utterly lost.

He spent the morning using every healing technique he'd ever learned—and as a naval officer and ship's captain, he'd learned quite a few—but nothing helped. Nothing even seemed to bring a modicum of relief to his lady. By noon, he knew the situation was desperate. He'd seen enough men wounded in battle to know the signs of approaching death—and Emma showed every one of them. He had to get help, a healer, _someone!_

"Emma love," he whispered to her, smoothing the matted hair from her face. "Hold on, be strong. I must get you help. Please don't leave me!"

She showed no signs of hearing him; she merely continued weakly thrashing, muttering. With one last agonized look, Hook rushed from the cabin into the weak November sunlight.

"Help!" he called as he ran through the woods looking for signs of habitation, "please help me! I need a healer."

It was uncanny how quickly aid came to him. Not five minutes after he'd left Emma at their cabin he came across a tiny stone cottage. Plumes of white smoke lazily wafted from the fireplace. Hook raced to the doorway and banged on the door.

"Patience, patience!" came the sound of an old woman's voice as the door slowly opened. Hook found himself face to face with the oldest, most wizened woman he'd ever seen.

"Yes, young man?" the woman asked.

"Please," Hook said hearing the desperation in his own voice, "In need a healer! My…wife is desperately ill."

The woman stepped back into her cozy home and beckoned him forward. The house was crammed floor to ceiling with plants, bottles, potions and bandages.

"Well, lad," the woman said with a cackle, "you've come to the right place. Now what is it that ails your wife?"

Hook paced restlessly. "She was struck by an arrow yesterday when we were…out. I don't know…the wound looked superficial, inconsequential, but it's festered. She's feverish and in terrible pain. Please! You must help her!"

The woman tsked and shook her head. "That's bad. Bad, bad, bad,"

"Aye," he answered. "Please! I beg of you, she's on the point of death. You must come at once."

"Of course," the woman said gathering up bottles and potions, "but I must warn you, there may be little I can do."

"Anything you could do would be greatly appreciated!" Hook insisted ushering the woman out the door.

The walk back to the cabin was achingly long. The frail old woman shuffled along, and Hook longed to throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and run headlong back to his Emma. He supposed it would be rather bad form to manhandle an old woman in such a manner, though.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he burst back through the cabin. The lass no longer thrashed. In point of fact, she no longer moved at all. _Please, Emma love,_ he desperately thought to himself, _please stay with me. I can't go on without you!_

The woman made her way slowly and laboriously to the bed. She checked Emma's pulse.

"Rather weak and thready, I'd say," she muttered

Then she lifted the bandages, checked the wounds, and felt Emma's forehead. Finally, her examination complete, she turned back to Hook. The pained, sorrowful look on her face made his heart drop straight to his toes.

"Lad," she said sadly, "I'm afraid there is nothing to be done for her. She is much too far gone for my help."

"No!" Hook roared. "You must try! You must do something! You can't let her die."

The woman looked at him assessingly for a moment.

"There's nothing I can do, young man," she said, "but mayhap there yet remains something for _you_ to do."

"Anything!" Hook said desperately.

"True love's kiss," the woman said with a little wistful smile. "True love's kiss can break any spell, heal any wound."

Hook felt the blood drain from his face. He sank roughly upon the straight-backed chair he'd pulled up next to Emma's bed.

"What troubles you, lad?" the woman asked, an age-worn hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Ye do love her, do you not?"

"I love her to the very depth of my soul," he said simply.

"Then where lies the problem?" the woman asked gently.

"I…" he said softly, "I don't know that she returns my affection."

"There's only one way to find out," the old woman said briskly. "And I assure you, lad. Your kiss is the only chance your lady has."

Hook nodded firmly, then sat beside Emma on the bed. He gently smoothed her hair, felt the silkiness of her cheek.

"Emma," he said in a choked voice, "I love you. Whatever happens, know that. You will have my heart until its last beat."

Slowly he lowered his mouth and caressed her sweet lips with his own, his hand gently tangling in her hair. After long moments, he straightened, looked down and waited.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_ Pain_. The pain was like a living thing, roaring and clawing at her. Unrelenting. She was burning, she was on fire. Strange, frightening images rushed past her with the speed of a film on fast forward. She twisted back and forth, but she couldn't move, she couldn't get up; there was no escape from this torture. Emma cried out, reached forward. Was there anyone to help her?

The she heard _him_. She knew that voice. Calm, soothing, a gentle lilt. What was he saying? She didn't care. That voice was her lifeline. It was like a cool stream on a blistering hot summer day.

"Shh, lass," the voice said, "I'll tend you. You'll be well."

Yes, he would make her well. He would hold the pain at bay. She weakly raised her hand. Then his roughened hand covered hers. She was safe. She was secure. She was in his arms, and he was singing to her. A soft gentle lullaby in her ear. And sleep, peaceful, gentle as a spring breeze descended on her.

And then the pain was back. It was worse now, like a thousand dull knifes listlessly sawing back and forth against her shoulder. She couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't even cry. She was imprisoned and nothing could stop the torment. This pain would kill her! Death would be more merciful than this.

Where was the man? He was her beacon in the storm, her lifeline, but his voice was nowhere to be found. His arms were not there to hold her. She felt bereft, like half of her had suddenly been ripped away.

And then he was back. She felt his weight on the bed, his gentle hand brushing her hair.

"Emma," she heard him say in a voice choked with emotion, "I love you. Whatever happens, know that. You will have my heart until its last beat."

His lips touched hers, and warmth radiated from that point of contact to every part of her body. It wasn't the stifling heat of before, it was the peaceful warmth of coming home after a long day in the frigid cold.

Suddenly the pain was gone. Emma opened her eyes, alert and clearheaded once again. Hook was there, looking at her with such love, such tenderness, such anxiety that it melted the last vestiges of the icy wall that she'd built around her heart.

Emma sat up and threw her arms around his neck, holding on as if her life depended on it. It all came back to her suddenly—finding the prison, the archer in the hills, the arrow speeding toward Hook. She'd almost lost him. If he'd been killed…

"I love you, Hook," she said, tears streaming down her face. "I almost lost my chance to tell you. I love you!"

He buried his face in her hair. "I've waited so very, very long to hear that lass," he said in a voice far from steady. "I love you, too, more than I could have thought possible."

Unnoticed by either of them, the old woman silently crept out, her face livid with fury…and fear.

_Notes__:_

_-Does Morgana's new name for Sir Galahad—who she's sending to Boston—sound familiar?_

_-Don't you just love it when villains' evil plans blow up in their faces? Hook and Emma are in love. We all knew that from the beginning…but it was not quite clear to either of them. Hook didn't quite believe that Emma could ever come to love him. Emma was terrified of giving in to the love she was feeling. When Morgana put them in a life or death situation, they finally had the impetus they needed to realize their love—and not just any love, true love. Take that, Morgana; you're going down!_

_-Up next: 9 months ago in the Enchanted Forest Robin Hood gets Roland to safety and then heads back to the castle to help Regina. Will he get back in time? How on earth will they manage to get away from the Wicked Witch of the West and all her monkey minions? In present day Camelot, Hook and a fully-healed Emma cautiously head back to the prison. With their true love acknowledged, their talismans are able to immediately open the door. How will they react when they each see a familiar face from their pasts?_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

_Enchanted Forest, almost 9 months ago_

"Don't worry about me!" Regina said, "I can handle this. You have to get Roland out of here!"

Robin stood for a moment in indecision. It went against every principle of chivalry he'd ever learned to leave a woman in distress—even an evil queen who normally was well adept at taking care of herself.

Hidden behind him, Roland whimpered, and Robin's indecision fled. The queen was right. He had to get his boy to safety, but once that was accomplished he'd be back for her. Although exactly how much help he would be against a powerful witch armed with strong dark magic, he didn't know.

Robin peeked cautiously out the door. Several winged monkeys stood guard at the end of the hall near the stairway, guarding the only apparent route to the castle chambers. Clearly they were unaware of the secret passage. _Good_. Fixed as the monkeys' attention was in the opposite direction, it was just possible Robin and Roland could make it into the nursery undetected.

A crash sounded from behind them as the witch and the queen continued doing battle. Robin forced himself to move forward though every bone in his body fought to come to the queen's aid.

Robin placed a finger to his lips, warning his terrified son to keep quiet, and then he crept almost soundlessly to the nursery two doors down. Easing the door open, he stepped in, ushered his son behind him, and then froze.

Two large monkeys stood before the partially open bookcase that Robin and the queen had evidently forgotten to close. There was no time to lose. Any moment the beasts would spot them. Robin reached for his bow, and in less than a minute, he'd sent two arrows flying, dispatching the creatures before they were aware of their danger.

Roland whimpered again, but put a hand over his mouth, clearly realizing the need for silence. Robin rushed forward, pushed the bookcase open, lifted his son up the large step into the passage's entrance, and then leaped up himself.

He'd only just close the bookshelf behind the two of them when he heard rough voices approaching the chamber door. They had mere moments before the guards discovered the bodies of their compatriots. Robin and Roland must get out of the castle right away!

Robin scooped Roland up in his arms and ran headlong down the stone steps, no longer caring how much noise he made. He reached the door to the outside world in record time, but then stopped, listening. Were there beasts waiting for them on the other side of the door? If so, they were silent as the grave.

Easing the door open, he peered cautiously outside. A small band of monkey soldiers had just passed, and was turning the corner toward the front of the castle. With another gesture warning his son to keep quiet, Robin scooped the boy up and ran to the shelter of the waiting trees.

Ten minutes later, Robin stopped and set his son on the ground amid the ancient trees on the far side of the bridge.

"Roland," he said firmly, waiting until his son met his eyes. "You are to stay here. Don't stir from this spot."

"Papa," Roland asked in a subdued voice, "where are you going? Don't leave me."

Robin's heart wrenched. Roland tried to be so brave and courageous, but he was, after all, only six-years-old. He must be terrified of being left alone in the dark after the scare he'd just endured.

"I need you to be brave for me, my little man," he said gently. "I have to go back and help the queen."

Roland's lip quivered. "But the witch is there," he whined, "and those bad monkeys. They'll hurt you Papa!"

Robin affected a confident air. "Yon beasts are no match for me, son."

"But Papa…" he began again.

"Roland, lad," Robin said, "you wish to be a man of chivalry and honor, do you not?"

"Aye," he answered glumly.

"Excellent," Robin said. "Part of being a man of honor is doing what is honorable even when it is difficult. The queen saved your life; she put herself between you and the witch. What a poor excuse for a man I would be if I abandoned her to her fate."

"Aye, Papa," Roland said sadly.

Robin withdrew the small vial containing the potion for which they had undertaken this mission in the first place.

"Now I have a mission for you," Robin said gravely. Roland looked up eagerly. "Guard this; keep it safe."

"Aye, Papa," Roland said again with confidence.

"The queen and I may be…delayed," that was probably the most delicate way to put it, "so I want you to promise to stay here only until morning begins to paint the sky. If we haven't returned, head straight back to the Dark One's castle and find the merry men. They will take care of you until I'm able to return. Promise me, lad."

"I promise, Papa."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Regina shook her head, desperately trying to clear it. She felt the warm rush of blood running down her head where it had connected with the silver chest. Injured and with severely weakened magic? Things were not looking good at all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a jet of green light rush toward her, and she rolled out of its path just in time. She glanced over to see a scorched hole in the carpeting where moments ago her head had rested.

Regina surged to her feet, closed her eyes for the merest moment, trying desperately to reconnect with her magic. She shot a fireball at her opponent and watched as the witch was blasted backward with a small grunt of pain.

"Well, now, Your Majesty," the witch taunted as she circled her, "that was quite rude. You've positively ruined my dress."

"Ruined it?" Regina said scornfully. "The only thing that could ruin that dress is the misfortune to be worn by you."

The witch shrieked and shot a spell at Regina with such blinding speed that she couldn't get out of the way. She was blasted off her feet and hit the floor with a sickening thud. What manner of curse _was _this? She couldn't move a muscle, and suddenly a horrible fear washed over her. Any moment the witch would finish her.

Regina watched as though in slow motion as the witch smiled with pure malice, raised her wand and pointed it at Regina. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the final blow.

Suddenly Regina heard shouts from the door, the whir of an arrow, the enraged shriek of the witch. With the woman's concentration broken, Regina found herself once more able to move. She leapt to her feet, and found herself face to face with Robin Hood.

"I told you to leave!" Regina whispered furiously as the witch pulled the arrow from her shoulder. "What about Roland?"  
"He's safe, Your Majesty," Robin said in a clipped voice as he fit another arrow to his bow. "Quick, I'll hold her off while you get to safety."  
"Not a chance," Regina said, conjuring a ball of fire. "Her magic is off the charts; you wouldn't stand a chance. We fight our way out of this together."  
"Very well, my lady," Robin agreed, diving aside as the witch shot a bolt of green lightning at him.

"How very sweet," the witch taunted. "The queen's little lap dog has come back to help her."

Regina threw her fire, but the witch deflected it with a wave of her hand. Robin shot another arrow at the witch, but she sent it back in his direction. It grazed him high on the cheekbone.

"Robin!" Regina shouted.

"I'm fine," he shouted back dodging yet another of the witch's curses. "Barely touched me."

Regina danced out of the way of another curse and wondered how they would get out of this tangle. The witch was far more powerful than she and Robin Hood combined. Suddenly her eyes landed on the bookcase along the wall. Maybe they didn't have to destroy the witch; if they could just incapacitate her long enough, they could get away.

Regina shot a curse at the witch, moving her backwards, positioning her where she wanted. _Come on. Just a few more feet!_ Robin hit the witch with another arrow, and she swayed backward. _Perfect!_

Regina shot wave after wave of fireballs at the huge, mahogany bookcase. It tipped, becoming more and more unsteady until it finally fell with a crash of books and bookends on top of the witch.

"Let's go!" Regina shouted grabbing Robin's hand as she raced for the door. She heard the sound of the witch struggling with the heavy furniture.

"I'll get you, my pretty," came the woman's muffled voice, "and your little dog too!"

The hallway was crawling with monkeys, no doubt drawn by the sound of the battle in the witch's room. Robin fired off arrow after arrow into the fray as Regina raced for the nursery door. If they could just make it inside the room, they would be safe.

The monkey's just kept coming, crawling over the bodies of their fallen companions. Regina shot a fireball over her shoulder, and she heard one of the beasts scream. Ten feet to go, just ten feet. Five feet. They were there! Regina reached out for the door handle, and then she felt a searing pain along her right arm.

She fell to her knees, her arm hanging useless at her side, obviously broken. Robin Hood reached around her, opened the door, and shoved her inside. Regina got to her feet and focused all her attention on the door. Raising her left hand, she shot wave after wave of magic at the wooden structure. It glowed bright blue for a moment, and then turned to stone.

"There," she panted, utterly spent. "That ought to buy us a few minutes."

Robin was already opening the door to the secret passageway, stepping over the bodies of the monkeys he'd shot earlier that evening.

"Let me help you, Your Majesty," Robin said as he lifted her into the passage.

They raced down the stairs and through the outer door.

"Shouldn't we check to make sure they haven't posted guards out here?" Regina asked.

"Nay," Robin answered ushering her out the door and into the night. "There's no time. We must get away."

Regina nodded and ran for the bridge. There seemed to be no one about. It seemed all the guards had raced to the altercation inside of the castle. Regina and Robin ran at top speed over the bridge and into the harboring arms of the forest.

"This will suffice, my lady," Robin said breathlessly, and for long moments they stood, desperately trying to catch their breath after their headlong run.

Finally, Robin reached into his pack and pulled out an old, woven shirt. Tearing it into long strips, he fashioned a sling and slipped it over Regina's arm.

"Here, Regina," he said gently, "we need to immobilize that arm."

"Thank you," Regina said breathlessly. That was the first time he'd called her by her name rather than "Your Majesty", or the far more derogatory "evil queen." It was the first time he'd looked at her with compassion rather than distain.

"Not just for the sling," she continued looking up into his eyes. "Thank you for coming back. Without you, I wouldn't have made it."

"It was the least I could do," he said in a low, intimate voice, "after what you did for my son."

She smiled and looked up, noticing the blood on his face where the arrow had grazed him. She reached up a gentle hand and dabbed at the wound. His eyes softened.

Regina didn't know exactly how it happened. One moment she was looking up at him, tending his wound, the next moment his arms were around her, and his lips met hers. All rational thought fled as she surged forward and enthusiastically returned his kiss.

"Papa?" came a soft voice behind them. "What are you doing?"

Robin nearly pushed her away. Even in the uncertain light of the moon, Regina could tell his face had turned red as the wicked witch's nails. She felt a grin pulling at her mouth.

"Um…er…" Robin stammered. "Roland, lad, I was merely saying thank you to the queen."

The little boy cocked his head with a puzzled look. "I've never seen anyone say thank you like that before."

Regina tried to keep a straight face, she really did, but it was no use. As Robin continued flailing around, trying to give his son a sufficiently vague explanation, she burst into a joyous peal of laughter.

It had been quite the night! Dangerous, nearly deadly. But as she continued looking up at Robin who had begun to laugh as well, she knew the night was far from a total loss. Regina knew instinctively that something had changed between her and the outlaw, changed forever.

_Camelot, present day_

Emma woke slowly, in stages, noticing the sensations before she opened her eyes. The weak November sun shone through the window, bathing her face with radiance. A hearty bird serenaded her from a tree somewhere nearby.

The pain in her injured shoulder was completely gone, as though it had never existed. Emma marveled at the power of Hook's true love's kiss. Speaking of her beloved pirate, she reveled in the feel of his arms around her, his head on her shoulder, his soft breath ruffling her hair as he slept, his strong chest against her back, his warmth and his love surrounding her.

It was the second morning after her injury. Emma caressed Hook's strong arm, and smiled as she wondered idly whether her stubborn man would let her get out of bed today. She would have no objection to whiling away the day in bed if they'd been doing anything…interesting…there. That first night he'd come to bed with her and she'd thought…well let's just say her thoughts were spinning completely out of control. But when she'd reached for him, he'd groaned and then shook his head. He'd explained that first of all, she was still convalescing, and secondly he had far too much respect for her to take advantage in her weakened state. The woman he loved deserved to be treated with honor. Her virtue was safe with him.

She shifted to find a more comfortable position, and felt the hair on Hook's bare chest tickle her back. She groaned. He insisted on "preserving her virtue," and then he came to bed shirtless? He didn't play fair; he didn't play fair at all!

Of course, a part of her reveled in the care he took of her. How many men had she known, dated, who had only been interested in that proverbial one thing? A man who obviously wanted her yet claimed she was more than worth waiting for…well, that was an intoxicating prospect. It warmed her as much as the glowing embers in the hearth, the last remnants of the blazing fire Hook had lit last night.

It had been quite the day and a half. If it wasn't for the looming prospect of the confrontations with Morgana and the Wicked Witch, her worry for her parents and friends, she would be perfectly happy. She loved him, loved Hook, and amazingly the prospect didn't terrify her anymore. It invigorated her. The power of his kiss had confirmed the truth. He loved her, and she would have his true love until the end of her days.

All her life people had left her, abandoned her, sacrificed her, but not Hook. He'd come back for her. Time and again he'd returned for her. Even after a year of being apart, a year when for all the world it seemed they would never see each other again, he'd remained committed to her. He'd moved heaven and earth to get back to her.

Emma turned in his arms until she was facing him. She noted the rough stubble on his face, the small scar on his cheek. She traced it with two fingers. They'd talked so much over the past day. Him telling her about his father, his brother, life as a naval officer, becoming a pirate, but he'd yet to tell her how he'd gotten that scar. She supposed there were still scars from her past she hadn't told him about either.

As she continued caressing his face and his hair, his brilliant blue eyes opened, and his wide, delighted grin blossomed across his face.

"Ah, lass," he rumbled, deep in his chest, "a man could get used to waking up to your sweet face."

She leaned forward, closing the distance between them. The kiss was slow and sweet, but as the intensity began to build, he pulled away with a groan.

"None of that, love," he said, getting to his feet and throwing on his shirt, "or you'll destroy my resolve. I've only got so much self-control."

She laughed. "So _doctor_," she said pointedly, "are you finally going to let me get up today?" She was rather amazed at herself, letting him dictate her activities…or rather lack of them…over the past day. She was not one who took orders from anyone, certainly not an over-protective suitor, but his care and concern had truly touched her. He'd been so worried about her, his fear of losing her so evident, that her heart had melted, and she'd agreed to waste a lazy day in bed.

He looked at her critically. "The pain has lessened?" he asked. "Your strength is returning."

She laughed again, scooting to a sitting position in bed. "Hook, for at least the five hundredth time, the pain was gone the moment you kissed me. And as for my strength, even if I was weakened from my injury, I think more than twenty-four hours in bed has taken care of it."

He was silent for another moment, looking at her. "Very well, love," he said finally, "I'll go out and find us some breakfast, and then we can begin planning our next move."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook knew he was grinning as he wandered the forest of Camelot. Not just any grin, a stupid sappy grin. Emma loved him! Three hundred more years could go by and he doubted he would ever get over the wonder of that fact.

Closing his eyes, and standing stock still in the shade of an ancient elm tree, Hook relived the morning. He remembered the sensations of Emma gently caressing his face. He'd opened his eyes to look into hers, as green as the sea, love shining forth. The lass held her emotions close to the vest. That she was comfortable enough to show them delighted him. He envisioned a future where he woke up to that sweet face every morning of his life.

Rather stupid of him to join her in her bed, to be sure. It had been sweet agony to be near her, hold her, smell her sweet scent, and restrain himself. But restrain himself he would; he was determined. He had been quite sincere in telling her that he wished to honor her, to protect her virtue, but there was another reason as well. Just before the Charmings had been captured and it became apparent that Hook needed to return to the Land Without Magic and retrieve Emma, Charming had had a frank father-to-potential-daughter's-suitor conversation with him.

"Hook," David had said in his best protective father' manner—and Hook had to admit the man had perfected it. "Promise me you'll stay away from my daughter!"

Hook had sighed. "That might be a little difficult, David," he'd drawled, "seeing how my entire purpose for returning to that land is to retrieve your lass."

David had growled and run a hand through his wheat-colored hair. "You know what I mean, pirate!"

Hook sighed again. Pirate? So they were back to that?

"Treat her with honor and respect," David had continued. "I find out you laid a hand on her…well…losing your hand is going to feel like a walk in the park!"

Hook rolled his eyes, and then sobered. He wanted Charming's approval, more than he'd have ever believed possible. It wasn't just that he was her father; Hook had come to genuinely like the man.

"Charming," he'd said in all seriousness. "I love your daughter more than my own life, which is saying quite a lot as I've spent hundreds of years looking out for my own skin. I would never do anything to harm her. She deserves to be honored and cherished, and that I will do. I'd like nothing better than to take the lass to my bed, but I swear to you I will not, not until I've won her heart and her hand in marriage."

David had looked at him intently for a moment, and then nodded. Hard as it would be, Hook fully intended to keep his vow, if for no other reason than to prove to Charming that he was a man of honor, no longer a ruthless pirate.

Hook scanned the surroundings as he'd done for the past two days, looking for danger, trying to determine who had attacked them and if they were still about. All was quiet and still, just as it had been yesterday and the day before. Hook supposed it should relieve him, but it didn't. If there was an attacker still skulking about, refusing to show himself, how could he ever truly keep Emma safe?

That first day, after Hook had determined that Emma truly was healed, he'd headed out, ostensibly to hunt and bring them back something for dinner. What he'd really planned to do was find the old lady, the healer and give her his heart-felt gratitude. She would never know all she'd done for him and his Emma. She'd not only restored the lass to health, she'd given them their happy ending.

But he'd found the most curious thing. He'd reached the stone cottage the healer inhabited only to find it completely deserted. Not only was it empty, it looked like it hadn't had a tenant for years. Moss grew up along the walls, and when Hook opened the door and walked in, he found nothing inside but an old table and chair, both covered with a thick layer of dust. What was this? Could he have come to the wrong cottage? No, it wasn't possible; he knew this was where he found the healer.

Hook had walked back to his and Emma's cabin in considerable confusion. He had an uncomfortable feeling things weren't quite as they appeared.

This afternoon, he and Emma would be returning to the prison to free the knights. Before he brought Emma back, he intended to comb every inch of land from the cabin to the prison, looking for anything out of place, any indication there may be a lurking danger.

Hook spent over an hour surveilling the land, and was finally satisfied. Nothing looked amiss, nothing at all. Whoever had attacked them before was long gone.

When Hook arrived back at the cabin, the lass was waiting for him at the door, her booted foot tapping, her arms crossed. He'd asked her to rest while he scouted the area, determined whether it was safe for her to venture out. She'd been surprisingly compliant when he'd made that manner of statement over the past couple of days; not like her at all. It looked like her mood of sweet compliance was finally over.

He grinned as he stepped forward, tangled his hand in her hair and gave her a swift kiss. Who was he kidding? He loved his fiery Swan. What spice would life hold if she meekly followed his directives?

"I'm going to assume that was an 'all is clear and we're ready to head out to the prison' kiss rather than a 'you should still be in bed because you are a fragile piece of china that might break' kiss," she said with a raise of her eyebrow.

"The former, darling," he said with a laugh, "definitely the former. I know better than to step in the 'savior's' way."

"You better," she said with a grin. "So what's the plan today?"

They began walking toward the prison, Emma holding on to his hook arm because he insisted on having his good arm free to fight if need be.

Hook frowned, "I don't like the lay of the land around the prison," he said. "Surrounded on three sides by hills, anyone approaching the prison is far too vulnerable to attack, as we learned quite painfully two days ago."

"So what do you suggest?" she asked matter-of-factly.

He looked around. They had reached the edge of the forest, the prison visible a hundred yards before them. The sun was just starting its descent for the night.

"We wait here until full dark, then we sprint to the prison and free the knights."

"Sounds good to me."

Half an hour later, Hook took Emma's hand and the pair dashed forward. Emma pulled her talisman free and handed it to Hook. He placed it on top of his, and the two merged to become one. As soon as the joining was complete, it began radiating a piercingly bright light. It was going to work! He knew it was going to work. Their hearts and talismans had finally become one.

"Shall I turn the key, love, or would you prefer to do the honors yourself?" he asked.

She gestured toward the prison gate. "Go for it Hook."

Hook stepped forward and slid the combined talismans into the tiny keyhole. This time the key turned easily, requiring only the most minimal of effort on his part. Hook pulled the door open, listening to the rusty creek of the hinges. Then he rushed forward with Emma at his heels.

Eleven men stood against the far wall, looking at them with curiosity and wariness.

"Don't be afraid," Emma said, stepping forward, "we're here to rescue you."

"You are the ones prophesied about?" the man nearest them asked in a voice rusty from disuse. "You are the valiant knight and fair lady?"

"Aye," Hook answered stepping forward to display the brilliantly glowing talisman. "That we are."

The men crowded around them, passing the combined talisman from hand to hand, making sounds of awe.

The nearest man, the one who had spoken before, cleared his throat and turned toward Emma. He sketched a courtly bow and pressed a kiss against her hand.

"We are pleased to make your acquaintance, fair lady," he said, "and would be most pleased if you would allow us to make our introductions."

"Um," she said, "Ok, I guess."

One by one, the men stepped up, kissed her hand and introduced themselves. Emma offered each man a formal but distant "Nice to meet you."

Each man except the next to last. He was a tall man with curly dark hair and kind brown eyes. As soon as he stepped forward, Emma gasped and took a step back.

"I am Sir Galahad, my lady," the man said in a smooth deep voice.

Emma stepped forward and looked intently at the man. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down onto her pale cheeks.

"Dad?" she asked in a small, choked voice.

_Dad?_

But Hook had no time to ponder the mystery, because no sooner had Emma spoken than the last man stepped from the shadows and into the light of the combined talismans. Hook drew in a quick, shocked breath. It couldn't be! It couldn't!

"I am Sir Gawain, my lady," the man said gallantly.

But he wasn't. It had been years, centuries, since Hook had seen this man, but his identity was unmistakable. This was Gowan Jones, his Da.

_Notes__:_

_-I rather enjoyed writing this chapter. Adventure and suspense in the 9-months-ago section. A relief-fueled oq first kiss—interrupted by Roland. Some rather protective papa Charming moments. And, of course, I couldn't resist adding in a little cs domestic bliss. Be warned, though, this story still has something like ten chapters left, and Morgana is still out there plotting her malice and mayhem, so it's still too early for their happily-ever-after._

_-So, it's official. Hook's dad and Emma's foster dad are none other than Sir Gawain and Sir Galahad, respectively. Their sudden disappearances so long ago are finally explained._

_-I have to apologize for the wicked witch's "I'll get you my pretty…" line, but it was inevitable; it had to happen somewhere in this story. (-: I had originally thought to have her say it to Emma in regard to her and Hook, but it just seemed to fit here so much better._

_-Up next: 8 months ago in the Enchanted Forest, Robin, Regina and Roland are on the lam, knowing there's no way the witch will let them continue to live in peace at Rumple's castle. They get word to the others about their successful mission, and they get a visit from Rumple, Belle, Neal, Snow, Charming and Hook. Rumple tells them about the prophecy—and Snow and Hook realize to whom it applies. In present day Camelot, Hook and Emma are rather emotionally reunited with their lost fathers. The knights give them further instruction on the next phase of their mission, and then head to No-Man's-Land to meet with Lancelot and begin planning their strike on Morgana and her henchmen. Also, predictably, Morgana is not pleased…and is plotting again. Hook and Emma better beware!_


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_Enchanted Forest 8 ½ months ago_

Regina stared up at the sky around them as they walked slowly through the forest. The world really was a beautiful place. Where ten minutes before had been an unrelenting canvas of midnight blue, were now bright bands of pink and orange and lavender, as though a mighty, giant hand had pulled out his paintbrush.

They had been walking for two hours, slowly, laboriously. Roland had long since become too sleepy to walk, and he now rested in his father's arms, head cushioned against Robin's strong shoulder.

As the adrenaline of the night's adventure slowly faded away, every cut, every bruise, every tense muscle began making itself felt. Regina's broken right arm ached so fiercely she nearly cried out with the pain of it. Her head, particularly where it had connected with the silver chest, felt as though a mighty hammer and chisel were trying to cleave it in two.

Never had she wished so strongly to be back in the Land Without Magic…where she could get aspirin, modern medical attention, her arm set properly. Aside from magical cures, which she was in no state to administer to herself, the Enchanted Forest provided precious little options for pain relief. Good grief, at this point she'd even accept a swig from Hook's seemingly bottomless flask of rum. A swig? As much as she hurt she'd accept a whole gallon!

"Are you alright, Regina," Robin asked in a solicitous whisper. "We can stop and make camp if the journey is becoming too much for you."

"No," Regina answered through gritted teeth. "It's far too cold to camp tonight. Roland's had a rough night, and we need to get him somewhere warm."

Robin looked at her meditatively. "You seem quite concerned for my lad," he said softly. "Why?"

"He reminds me of my own 'lad'," Regina answered, pleased to have something besides her pain on which to focus her attention. "Henry is also far too brave, far too imaginative, far too adventurous for his own good. Always seemed to think he was made for more than the sleepy, humdrum Storybrooke existence we led."

Regina felt Robin's eyes on her. "What happened?" he asked softly. "Where is the lad of yours?"

"It was the price of the curse," Regina answered with a shrug of her shoulders. A shrug that she profoundly regretted as her broken arm began hurling imprecations at her. "In order to save Storybrooke's residents, put to rights all the evil I'd done, I had to pay the ultimate price. I had to give up the person I loved most in the world. So Henry stayed in the land without magic, while I returned here."

Robin shot her a quick look. "By himself? The curse made you abandon a young boy to his own devices?"

"No," Regina said. "I was able to make sure his birth mother, Emma Swan, stayed with him."

After all the hell she'd put Emma through—from killing Sheriff Graham when he and Emma started getting too cozy, to keeping Emma away from Henry, to attempting to get Emma to eat a poisoned apple turn-over—she supposed she did owe her some measure of happy ending.

"Emma," Robin said speculatively. "Any connection to the woman Hook's been pining over for the last several months."

"She's the very one," Regina said.

"Interesting."

They lapsed into silence for several moments. Regina took in their surroundings as the sun took its position high in the sky. This didn't seem to be the way back to Rumple's castle.

"Where are we going?" she asked curiously. Strange how implicitly she trusted Robin. Normally she was far more suspicious.

"There's an old cottage some miles off the beaten path; belongs to Friar Tuck. I've whiled away many a winter evening there. Before we commandeered the Dark One's castle, my men and I often slept there in the dead of winter."

"Must be a pretty big cottage if it fit all your men," Regina speculated.

"Aye," Robin answered with a shrug. "It's roomy enough, but it was quite the tight fit for my whole band. It will be more than comfortable for the three of us."

"But why?" Regina asked, furrowing her brow. "Why not head back to the castle? We'd be on hand as soon as Rumple reappeared."

Robin looked at her for long moments. "How long do you think the witch would let us live there in peace?" he asked. "After last night, I'd venture she's out for our blood. The best chance we have is to go into hiding. Not only will that save our own skin, it'll save that of the others at the Dark One's castle. If we're to defeat the witch, that's crucial."

"You're right," Regina said wearily. "I can't even think straight right now; I'm glad you're here to direct our steps."

He looked at her for a long, critical moment. "You're in a great deal of pain, aren't you?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she answered simply. "But I'm not some weakling. I can endure pain."

He smiled tenderly and adjusted Roland so that his weight was more evenly distributed. "Tuck was our healer," Robin said. "Likely we'll find potions and herbs to heal our wounds and kill our pain when we reach the cabin."

"Thank God," Regina said through gritted teeth.

The cabin was much as Regina pictured. Settled in a small clearing in the woods, it was quaint and homey. Stone walls and a thatched roof, a large, sturdy hearth where many a hearty meal had been prepared…if Friar Tuck's girth was any indication. The main room was furnished with a comfortable looking bed, a wooden table and six chairs, a comfortable looking chair by the fireplace, and several shelves filled with herbs and potions. A second, much smaller room hid behind a particleboard door. Regina was relieved to see the room sported a bed of its own. The thought of sharing the one large bed in the main room with Robin was…far from comfortable.

Regina thought of the one aborted kiss they'd shared after their escape. It had awakened thoughts and feelings long since buried. She hadn't felt that alive, that exhilarated since Daniel died. Surely she couldn't be _falling for_ the handsome outlaw! While he'd been kinder to her since their adventure last night, he'd spent weeks, months, making it abundantly clear that he despised her. After what he'd told her of his wife's death, she couldn't blame him.

Robin had carried his sleeping lad into the cabin, deposited him gently on the large bed in the main room, and then set a fire to blazing.

"Your Majesty," he'd said firmly as soon as he'd seen to heating the cottage, "You have had a most difficult night. If you'll take my advice, find a potion that will bring you relief then take some rest in yon back bedroom."

"You've had just as difficult of a night," she said with concern. "Will you take your rest as well?"

"Aye," he said with a small smile. "I must send a message to my men, inform them of our limited success, then I will join Roland."

"How will you send a message?" she asked curiously.

"Tuck has a number of falcons in a kind of mews out behind the cottage," Robin answered. "I'll wager one of the beasts would be eager to search out Tuck; the man spoils his beasts. It's a wonder the birds can fly after all the treats he's given them."

Regina nodded, selected a bottle of sea-green potion claiming to deaden pain, and then hobbled to the back room, so tired she could barely see straight.

Over the next two weeks, Robin, Regina and Roland settled into some semblance of domestic tranquility. Robin spent the mornings hunting them food and scouting the area, ensuring the witch had not yet learned their location. Regina stayed in the cabin, cleaning, cooking, tending to Roland. Sometimes Regina imagined this was real; that they were an ordinary family just doing their best to survive throughout the harsh winter.

Robin didn't attempt to kiss her again, and Regina felt a pang of regret. Was the kiss an anomaly? Was her enjoyment of it merely a product of her relief after their narrow escape, a needed release of the fear and tension they'd both been feeling? Would a second kiss feel flat, awkward?

Somehow Regina doubted it. Sometimes throughout the long, cold evenings Regina would look up from playing with Roland to find Robin's eyes on her, a hot, smoldering look within their depths. It was the kind of look that had her stomach turning backflips. What might have happened if they didn't have a little six-year-old chaperone dodging their every move and watching both of them with something approaching hero worship? Regina's face flamed at some of the images that came to mind at the very thought.

Things had certainly taken an interesting turn. Despite the threat the witch posed, Regina began to feel a glimmer of optimism for the first time since she'd destroyed the curse. Villain though she'd been, maybe there was a chance for a happy ending for her after all.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Enchanted Forest, 8 months ago_

"Someone's got to go get the potion," Snow said, once more stating the obvious. The woman had been doing that more and more lately.

It was no wonder. They'd all been going a little stir crazy ever since Regina and Robin had gone off on their ill-fated mission to the palace. Hook was amazed they'd made it out alive if rumors of their exploits could be believed. One man and one woman—albeit one who possessed magic—against the bloody Wicked Witch of the West and all her monkey minions. It was bloody suicide!

"Indeed, dearie," Rumple said somewhat weakly. "I've grown far too…attached, shall we say…to this blasted cuff."

He held up his left hand, pasty and pale from lack of circulation due to the tight strip of leather.

"I'd be pleased to relieve you of the cuff," Hook sneered, fingering the hilt of his sword. "Quite fitting, I'd say. A hand for a hand, aye?"

"Oh, I think not," Rumple said with a sneer of his own. Belle's clutch on the man's arm became tighter and she shot Hook an outraged look.

"Not helping, Hook," Baelfire shot at him in exasperation. The Crocodile's lady and his whelp were certainly prickly since they'd all returned a week past. Hook supposed he could understand that. The more deeply you loved, the more protective you became.

"My apologies, mate," Hook mumbled, stepping back, out of the line of fire, as it were.

"Snow's right, of course," Charming said, completely ignoring his, the Crocodile's and Baelfire's little parenthetical discussion. "We do need the potion. But the question is, how are we to get it. For the past two weeks we've been kept in virtual house arrest by these monkeys. Even if we managed to get out of the house, they'd follow us right to Robin and Regina, and then there would be hell to pay."

"Not to make too fine a point of it," Hook drawled leaning negligently back in his chair, "but the nasty little buggars aren't the brightest paints on the easel. It would seem to me quite possible to outwit them."

"Even for one as witless as you?" the Crocodile hissed with his obnoxious little giggle. Hook growled and began to push back from the table.

"Enough, you two!" Charming thundered roughly shoving Hook back into his seat. "Can you at least pretend to get along long enough for us to get the potion and defeat the witch?"

"Aye," Hook growled glaring at the Crocodile.

"As the objective is to my distinct advantage," Rumple purred, "I will attempt to 'get along' even with the cowardly pirate."

Hook would give anything to plant his fist squarely in that smug face, but with supreme difficulty, restrained himself. Beside him, Snow patted his arm, acknowledging his obvious self-control. It was clear where Emma got her perception.

"Good," Charming said with a decisive nod. "Now, Hook, what do you have in mind as far as outwitting the monkeys is concerned?"

"I suggest a diversion," Hook answered, looking over the group. "Send several groups out, all heading in different directions. Make our paths sufficiently circuitous as to throw the beasts off the scent, as it were. When we've sufficiently lost them, we meet back at Tuck's cottage."

"I like it," Charming said simply. "It certainly has potential."

"It also has potential flaws," Rumple said snidely.

"Such as?" Hook asked, refusing to allow the man to bait him.

"Such as what if the beasts don't allow themselves to be sidetracked?" Rumple said with a wave of his hand. "What if they prove more cunning than we're giving them credit for?"

"I think we can be of service," Red offered. "The monkeys still have a healthy fear of Granny and me. How about we accompany a group of the merry men who claim to go out looking for Robin? The monkeys take the bait and follow us. We lead them on a wild…wolf… chase, while the rest of you head to the cottage."

"And if we end up with followers of our own?" Charming asked.

Red shrugged, bunching her eponymous cape around her ears. "Whistle and we'll come take them off your hands."

They'd agreed to Red's plan, no one coming up with any better. It had gone surprisingly well, given their recent string of rotten luck. The monkeys had fallen for the ruse with embarrassing alacrity. The few beasts who had followed the main group of Charming, Snow, the Crocodile, Belle (who refused to be parted from her true love), Baelfire and Hook had been shaken within moments.

They arrived at the portly friar's cottage two hours after the council of war, just as the sun was setting.

"Who goes there?" came Robin's voice as he stepped from the shadows of the house, his bow and arrow at the ready. Hook noticed Regina stepping to his side, a fireball in her left hand.

"Not a very gracious welcome dearies," the Crocodile drawled, stepping forward. "Considering the trouble you went to go get me the antidote, it would be a shame to kill me."

Regina vanished the fire with a wave of her hand. "Rumple?" she asked, stepping forward.

"In the flesh," he said with a flamboyant bow, "along with assorted friends, relatives, allies and erstwhile enemies."

"Come in," Robin offered slinging his bow over his shoulder and gesturing toward the door. "We were just preparing to sit down to table; you're welcome to join us."

"We'd love to," Charming said as he ushered Snow inside.

Hook watched Robin usher Regina back inside with a hand to the small of her back. Regina looked up and offered him a small, intimate smile. Interesting. Just how had the queen and the outlaw been spending their time over the past fortnight?

Dinner was a lively affair. The Crocodile might tap dance on Hook's last nerve far more often than not, but he could certainly be diverting. For that matter, everyone at table seemed to be in an unaccountably good mood. There seemed to be an unspoken feeling that the tables had turned. Hook couldn't explain why, but he had an inescapable feeling that they were on the cusp of a major breakthrough where defeating the witch was concerned.

Finally, Rumple got to his feet and approached Regina. "While this has been entertaining," he said, "I believe you have something for me."

"Indeed," Regina said stepping to a small box before the hearth. Opening the lid, she extracted the vial of potion and handed it to Rumple. The Crocodile made quite a show of removing the stopper and tipping the amber liquid into his waiting mouth.

They waited. Rumple merely stood still, his head raised to the ceiling, his eyes resolutely closed. The leather cuff fell from his arm and hit the ground with a dull clatter.

"Rumple?" Belle asked fearfully. "Are you alright?"

The Crocodile opened his eyes, focused on a spider patiently weaving its web in the corner, waved his hand, and the arachnid fell to the ground, legs curled in upon itself.

"Better than 'alright', dearie!" he said with a cackle. "I'm back!"

Belle wrapped her arms around him, and then looked up into his face. "I knew it would work!" she said earnestly. "Any spell can be broken!"

"Excellent!" Charming exclaimed, getting to his feet and enthusiastically clapping the Crocodile on the shoulder. "With another powerful practitioner of magic on our side we finally have a chance against the witch!"

The Crocodile shot the prince an inscrutable look. "Yeah, about that," he said raising a cautioning finger in the air. "I don't think you realize the magnitude of the situation."

"What do you mean?" Regina asked in a deceptively soft voice. Hook could see the storm clouds brewing on her brow. "Are you refusing to help us, after all we've done for you."

"Well, of course I'm refusing to help you, your majesty," he said with a mocking bow. "I don't embroil myself in utterly lost causes."

"Papa?" Baelfire asked, a confused frown on his face, "are you saying the Wicked Witch of the West can't be beaten."

"What I'm saying, Bae," the Crocodile answered, "is that defeating the witch would be a rather pointless exercise. She's merely a pawn; a small cog in a far more sinister plan."

"Whose plan?" Charming asked, stepping forward menacingly.

"Morgana Le Fay," the Crocodile said with a flourish of his hand and the grin that Hook thought made him look decidedly unhinged.

"Of Camelot?" Snow asked in confusion. "What does she have to do with the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Everything in the world, dearie," the Crocodile said turning toward Snow. "The witch is Morgana's protégé, her first student. The witch owes everything she has to Morgana, and Morgana is well prepared to pay for her loyalty. You want to win back the Enchanted Forest? Overthrow Morgana. Until her regime is ended, nothing you do to the witch will be of consequence."

"Okay," Charming said reaching for his sword. "So we go after Morgana."

Rumple cackled again. Hook clenched his one remaining hand under the table, fantasizing about planting said fist in the man's face.

"By all means, Charming," Rumple said, still smiling, "Go after Morgana. But if you do, your widow here will be lucky to find enough bits of you to give a proper burial. Morgana won't be defeated by military campaign."

"Brilliant," Hook exploded finally. "Just bloody brilliant! You're telling us that in order to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West we must first defeat Morgana Le Fay, but Morgana Le Fay cannot be defeated!"

Hook began pacing, furious with the entire affair.

"When did I say she can't be defeated?" the Crocodile asked with another giggle. "Of course she can be defeated!"

Hook growled deep in his throat. "Stop with the bloody riddles, Crocodile! Tell us what we need to know."

"Or what, pirate?" he asked snidely getting in Hook's face.

"Or I'll jolly well make you!" Hook roared.

Snow stepped between them with a hand to each man's chest.

"Hook, you're not helping!" she said with her best schoolmarm air. The ladies of this family were certainly a force to be reckoned with! He backed down and stalked back to his chair, brooding darkly.

"Okay," Charming said when the dust had settled, "so Morgana can be defeated. How?"

"How else, dearie?" the Crocodile said, again with the hand motion. "Twue wuv."

"So…" Regina said in confusion, "we have to find her a true love and play matchmaker?"

"Of course not," the Crocodile scoffed. "The woman has pretty much destroyed whatever black heart and soul she still possesses. Love's not in the cards for her. No, I was referring to the prophecy."

"And that prophecy would be…" Snow prompted. The bloody Crocodile seemed to be thoroughly enjoying every moment of his theatrics.

"The prophesy states that a valiant knight will rise up from the east and he, along with his flaxen haired lady fair will possess talismans," the Crocodile stated in a hushed voice. "When their hearts and talismans are united in the bonds of truest love, they will be the key to defeating Morgana."

"A knight and his flaxen haired lady fair?" Baelfire asked in confusion. "Who might they be."

"Who knows?" the Crocodile stated.

"Any idea what those talismans might look like?" Charming asked.

"But of course!" the Crocodile asserted. "The lady in question will wear a necklace, the pendant of which will be a circle signifying everlasting love."

Snow gasped.

"Emma!" she breathed. Hook swiveled his head in Snow's direction so fast he nearly got whiplash. Could it be? His flaxen-haired lass was as fair as they come…and she did wear a circlet around her neck.

"What?" Charming asked, looking intently at his wife. "You think it could refer to Emma."

"David," she said in a soft voice. "It fits! As long as I've known her she's worn the same necklace. Always the same. Once, before she broke the first curse, when we were still roommates, I asked her about it. She told me that she got it from one of her foster fathers. He told her the circle stood for everlasting love!"

Baelfire surged to his feet, a look of steely resolve on his face. "So Emma's the savior once again," he said. "When do I leave?"

Rumple looked at him in confusion. "Leave for what?"

"To get Emma," Bae said in exasperation. "She'll need to be brought back here, and who better to get her than the knight, her true love…me?"

Hook surged to his feet, his temper rising. "The hell you are!" he shouted. "If you'll recall, mate, the lass has yet to determine who wins her heart!"

"And you think it's you?" Bae taunted. "You think a pirate who spent hundreds of years seeking vengeance will 'win her heart'? Why don't we take this outside where we can determine just who's man enough for Emma!"

Snow once again stood between them. She looked furiously from one livid face to the other.

"I'd like to be there when you tell my daughter that you're officially her true love because you were Neanderthal enough to beat your competition to a pulp," she said scornfully. "She'd probably haul off and deck you…whichever one it was!"

Probably true, Hook admitted ruefully to himself.

"There's an easy way to tell," the Crocodile said, seated comfortably in his chair. "The knight…the lady's true love…will wear a talisman as well."

"And his talisman will be…" Regina asked.

"The cross of sacrifice."

Hook surged to his feet once more, hope and elation filling him, his hand drifting to the chain around his neck. This was it! He would see his Emma again, and if the prophecy was to be believed, their hearts would one day be bound in true love!

_Notes_

_-Today ended up being half a snow day and half a sick day. I'm convinced that Morgana was unhappy with the way I'm portraying her so she cursed my sinuses. Just you wait, Morgana! I'll get the last laugh. You're going down! Incidentally, should I be concerned that I'm now so invested in my story that I'm blaming my sinus infection on the curse of a fictional character who was created in my own mind? (-: Anyway, the upshot of my day off of work was that I got this chapter posted less than 24 hours after the last one!_

_-The 8__months ago section ended up being so long that I decided to make it a chapter in and of itself. It seemed that if I'd added in the present day section, the chapter would end up being ridiculously long. Besides, I think the scene between Emma and Hook and their respective fathers deserves a chapter in and of itself. Well, that and a scene where I give you a little sneak peek into the next bit of nastiness Morgana's getting ready to cook up._


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

_Camelot, present day_

Emma's jaw dropped. All rational thought…all thought at all fled from her mind. Shock was far too tame a word for it. Her eyes locked on the man in front of her, and he peered back, a look of polite inquiry on his face.

Greg Smith, her foster dad. How could he be here in freaking Camelot? What did he say his name was? Sir Galahad? But…but Greg Smith wasn't a knight of the Round Table! He was a normal guy, a construction worker, a good man who worked hard to provide for his family, a husband, a father, salt of the earth if ever she'd seen it.

But then he'd disappeared. It made no sense. It had never made any sense. Emma had never admitted it to herself, but he was one of the prime reasons she'd become a bail bonds person. As a child she'd been convinced that her daddy had died, that something terrible had happened to him, that someone had killed him.

As she grew up and got a first-hand look at some of the ugliness humanity was capable of, she'd been forced to revise her opinion. Dead people didn't just disappear off the face of the earth. No, if her father had been murdered his body would have been found. As it wasn't, that could mean only one thing. Greg Smith wasn't dead, and Greg Smith didn't want to be found. Perhaps Greg Smith had grown tired of sleepy, boring domestic life. Perhaps he'd met a woman captivating enough to make him forget about his wife, Rose, and his son, Tommy…and his daughter, Emma.

After she'd gotten out of prison, Emma had been forced to do some hard thinking about her life. She'd had quite enough of the lock-up, thank you very much. It was time she started operating on the right side of the law, and stayed the hell away from charming losers who knocked her up and framed her for their own crimes! She remembered rubbing her flat stomach, aching for the little one who had resided there, safe and warm for so many months. For a heartbeat of time she'd had someone; she was not alone. But then he'd left her too, carried away by the fatherly doctor who had assured her she could still change her mind. As if she'd had _anything_ to offer a baby. No home, no family, no job, nothing but a lost girl of a mother who obviously wasn't good enough for anyone to want to find.

As she'd wandered around aimlessly taking dead-end job after dead-end job, trying her best just to get by, she'd never been able to get her foster father's abandonment out of her mind. Only one thing had been clear, crystal clear. She _had _to find Greg Smith and get some hard answers. So as she'd hunted scum of the earth after scum of the earth, she'd always looked, always hoped to find the first man who had ever broke her heart.

And now here he was, in a crazy sorceress's prison carved out of the rocky side of a mountain, in freaking _Camelot_! How? Why? When? What? The unanswered questions chased each other around her mind like ping pong balls in the middle of a hurricane.

All of this passed through her mind in the mere blink of an eye, before the last knight introduced himself as Sir Gawain. Beside her Hook tensed and gasped audibly. Why? As soon as this Sir Gawain stepped into the light of the combined talismans, it became abundantly clear. Straight black hair, cerulean blue eyes, strong jaw partially hidden by several days' growth of beard. This man was the mirror image of Killian Jones. Clearly they were related. Who was he? Was this his long lost brother? No. That couldn't be right. Hook had told her that Liam died in his arms.

And then it clicked. He'd told her about his father—about how he'd vowed to take his boys with him on a tour of the realms, and then promptly disappeared into thin air. The similarity with her own situation was far too great to be a coincidence!

Emma took an unconscious step closer to Hook and laced her fingers with his. He glanced down at her and squeezed her hand gently. And suddenly Emma became aware that every eye was on her, looking to her for answers, looking to her for guidance. Would she never be free of her role as 'savior?'

The cave-prison was dank and drafty. A northerly wind blew in, whistling sharply. Emma longed for the comfort of the blazing fire in her and Hook's cozy cabin. She also became aware for the first time since her foster father had stepped into the light, that it was probably inadvisable to stand around the prison for any longer than necessary. After all, it was only a matter of time before Morgana sent her guards back.

"Um," she said uncomfortably, "don't you think we should get out of here while we still can?"

Hook seemed to snap out of whatever trance he'd been in. "Right you are lass."

He swept the knights with his gaze, hesitating for a small moment on Sir Gawain.

"The lady and I have been residing in a small cabin about a mile away," he said. "We've so far been able to remain undetected there. I propose we return and discuss our further strategy."

The man who had obviously styled himself their spokesman (Sir Gareth, was it?) stepped up. "We would be most glad of your hospitality, good knight. Would you be so kind as to grace us with the names of our rescuers?"

"Of course," Hook said formally. "Gentlemen, might I present to you the lady Emma Swan."

"Emma!" Greg Smith…no, _Sir Galahad_ breathed, staggering back with a hand to his chest. Did he recognize the name? Surely he didn't recognize the scrawny six-year-old little girl he'd left in the thirty-year-old woman before him.

Hook ignored Galahad's exclamation. "And I am Captain Killian Jones," Hook continued looking Sir Gawain straight in the eye.

Sir Gawain visibly paled. "Killian?" he asked in a small voice. "Lad?"

Many of the other men looked to each other, clearly perplexed. Emma couldn't blame them. She reached down with her free arm and viciously pinched herself. If she didn't know better, she'd swear she was in the midst of the most vivid, most bizarre dream of her life.

But all the pinch accomplished was to insure she'd soon be sporting a vicious bruise.

"Shall we?" Hook asked, gesturing with his hook arm for the knights to precede him from the cell.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook sat at the rough wooden table of his cabin, the lass at his side, his da and her foster father across from them. He nursed a large mug of coffee on the table before him, its fragrant steam warming and invigorating him. He hadn't felt so bloody off-balanced since the Crocodile showed up and demanded a duel.

Last night he'd walked back to the cabin in a fog, Emma's hand, warm and comforting, within his own. It was like the plot of one of the cheap novels that popped up everywhere you looked along the seedy shops at the docks. The dread pirate Jones, terror of the seas, finds love and redemptions in the arms of an alluring blonde vixen. He then comes face-to-face with the father he thought abandoned him low these three hundred plus years ago! Incredible! Unbelievable!

By the time they'd returned to the cabin, it was ridiculously late. It was abundantly clear that none of them were capable of a rational conversation that night. So they'd shared the remainder of the stew Hook had prepared for Emma the day before—he doubted the lass would ever fully comprehend the difficulty of attempting to peel and chop root vegetables with only one hand!—and then settled in for the night.

Hook grinned as he recalled the approach of bedtime. The knights had been horribly embarrassed at the prospect of inconveniencing Emma. To a man, they had insisted that they would sleep outside on the ground so as to leave no stain on her maidenly character. The lass had opened her mouth, clearly preparing to disabuse them of the notion that she was a delicate maiden whose sensibilities would be shocked at the presence of fully dressed men sleeping on her floor, but Hook had stepped in to diffuse the approaching storm.

"Don't be rash, gentlemen," Hook had said reasonably. "It is frigid outside tonight. I'm sure Emma would not wish you to freeze to death. Besides, a large number of men sleeping outside a cabin might generate suspicion…suspicion that may leak back to one Morgana Le Fay. It would be rather bad form to lead her here, put Emma in danger, Aye?"

This last argument seemed to do the trick, and the men had mumbled gruff assents and then rigged up a quilt to the ceiling to act as a kind of partition that might preserve Emma's modesty. As they took their places here and there along the floor, Hook crept behind the blanket, eager to get in the warm bed with his sweet lass.

Then the fireworks began. Hook had no more than reached for the curtain with his Hook when he heard gasp after gasp from behind him. A rough hand clapped him on the shoulder and spun him around. He found himself eye to eye…or rather eye to chin, the man truly was gigantic...with Sir Galahad, Emma's foster father, and the very embodiment of purity and chastity on the Round Table.

"What think you you're doing, scoundrel?" the man said in an outraged voice. Hook heard rustling behind him and turned to see Emma peering at the scene before her, a far-too amused grin on her face.

"Well," he hesitated, "I thought to get some sleep."

"I saw no wedding band on my Emma's finger," the man said angrily. "You mean to ruin her, despoil her?"

Hook felt his ire rise. "I beg your pardon! I've never 'despoiled' a woman in my life!" Hadn't need to, to be honest. He'd never suffered for lack of willing women. "I assure you, my intentions toward Miss Swan are entirely honorable."

"An honorable man," Galahad said, poking a sharp forefinger in Hook's chest, "would not put a fair lady in a compromising position! Nay! You sleep on the floor with the rest of us or we go outside this moment and duel for the lady's honor."

"I'd do what he says, Hook," Emma said in an amused voice. "I think he means business."

"Very well!" Hook said, glaring at the larger man. Then in a fit of pure, unadulterated wickedness, he'd stepped up to Emma, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Thoroughly. He heard the feral growl behind him, but then his own father came to his defense.

"Let them be, Galahad," Sir Gawain said. "They share true love. I've no doubt the lad will do right by her."

"He'd better," Galahad had growled again. "True love or no true love, if he lifts one finger to hurt my daughter, he'll have me to reckon with!"

This morning hostilities seemed to have ceased. Sir Galahad really was a jovial fellow, and his da was…his da. Brash, exuberant, a charmer, gallant to a fault. All the knights seemed to be in the mood to celebrate. Years, in some cases hundreds of years, had they languished in that cell hoping against hope that the prophecy would one day be fulfilled. Now it was happening. It was really happening!

They'd held a council of war, of sorts, opining on the state of affairs, what was needed to defeat Morgana. In the end it was decided that the knights would head to the No-Man's-Land between Camelot and the Enchanted Forest. There they'd regain their strength, get access to the weapons they would need, meet up with their leader, Sir Lancelot, and make a battle plan. Meanwhile, Hook and Emma would remain in Camelot trying to come up with a plan to get to and repair the Round Table. Because that is what they must do. If they weren't able to use their combined talismans to mend what long ago was broken, all the battle plans in the world would not help the knights of the Round Table defeat Morgana.

Finally, nine of the knights had headed out, thanking Hook and Emma profusely for their hospitality and wishing them success. Only Sir Galahad and Sir Gawain remained. Their fathers.

Hook looked across the table at the man he had thought to never see again, the man he'd loved and hated and grieved for, and pretended he didn't miss. Tears filled his eyes. He turned his head aside and rapidly blinked, but his father had seen the moisture.

"Killian, lad," he said gently, getting to his feet and extending his arms. As Hook stepped forward into his father's arms, he felt for all the world like the scared little eight-year-old who'd woken up to find his father gone.

"Da!" he said thickly. "You were gone. You were just gone. They told us you were a fugitive, that you'd left us behind, that you didn't want us."

Gawain stepped back and gave him a disbelieving look. "Nay, lad!" he said in horror. "Nay! It was the curse. I never would have left ye and yer brother willingly, but when I began to remember who I truly was…well, I was yanked to that detestable prison."

Hook sat heavily back upon his chair, feeling like a prisoner who'd just been released. As a little boy, how many nights had he cried himself to sleep, trying valiantly to hide his tears from Liam. He'd been so lonely, so forlorn without his Da, and the thought that his Da, his hero, had left him without so much as a farewell? It had been torture, long, unremitting torture that he lived over and over, day after day.

But it had all been a mistake! He hadn't left; he'd been abducted. It made all the difference in the world. A broad smile spread itself over his face, but his father's next question sobered him quickly.

"Killian, lad," his father asked looking around, "where's your brother? Where's my Liam?"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma felt the tears rush to her eyes as she looked over at Hook. She had no idea how many decades or even centuries it had been since Liam's death, but it was clearly still an agony to talk about it. She reached over and grasped his arm as he spoke in halting sentences, telling his father what had happened.

He blamed himself; that was painfully clear. All these years he'd gone through the agony of believing he had been the cause of his brother's death. Emma leaned over yet farther and laid her head on his shoulder. He absently put his arm around her, drawing her close.

"If only I'd let it go!" Hook said painfully. "If only I hadn't goaded him into scratching himself with that bloody poison!"

Emma sat up and turned him to face her. "Hook, don't!" she said earnestly. "It's not your fault. There's no way you could have known!"

"Listen to the lady," her foster father said with a smile in her direction. "My Emma is a marvel; always has been."

"Aye. I'm abundantly aware of that, sir," Hook said gently, looking deeply into her eyes.

Eyes that were suddenly swimming. She turned and looked at her dad. He had a wistful smile on his face, and the tears suddenly streamed down her face.

"Come here, Buttercup," he said, standing up. It was his nickname for her, the nickname he'd given her no more than a week after she'd come to live with the Smiths, the nickname that had been the inspiration for the tattoo she had on the inside of her wrist.

Emma ran to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest and sobbed. She'd missed him so much. When he'd disappeared, it had felt like her life had ended. She was suddenly alone. No one to defend her; no one to protect her. It was her against the world.

"Nothing in the world could have convinced me to willingly leave you and your brother and your mother," Sir Galahad said in a rough voice. "My family is my life. When I found myself in yon prison I worried incessantly about what had become of all of you."

_We were a mess_, Emma thought to herself. _We completely fell apart without you. You were the cornerstone of our family, and with you gone, there was nothing to hold us up._ She couldn't tell him that, of course. The man, her daddy, was wracked with guilt…a guilt he didn't deserve. The only person who should feel guilt is the bitch who cast the curses in the first place.

Emma merely shrugged. "We managed. I got by."

Her off hand words didn't fool him. She saw the anguish push even deeper in his soul.

"Nay, child," he said with a sad shake of his head. "You survived. 'Tis not the same as living, really living. What a difficult life you've had to lead!"

"But it has made me the woman I am," Emma said firmly, seating herself once again beside Hook. She took his hand. "Maybe I wouldn't have the strength to fight and do what needs to be done if I'd had the perfect fairy tale life. Sometimes things work out for a reason."

Emma's free hand came up to finger her necklace. "There is something I don't understand though. Did you know I was supposed to be the one to save you all? Is that why you gave me the necklace."

Galahad looked perplexed. "No. It was mere coincidence. I had no idea who I truly was or where I truly was from. I was cursed, after all. I know that must be difficult for you to accept, coming from the Land Without Magic as you do."

"Trust me," Emma said dryly. "I got over being shocked or surprised about anything magical or cursed or mythical or legendary a long time ago."

"Aye," Hook grinned. "The lass is already responsible for breaking one dark curse. One might say she has more experience than all of us."

"Really?" Galahad asked with interest. "You must tell me the story someday. I must admit to having a question of my own, my little buttercup."

"Yeah?" Emma asked. "What's that?"

"How did you manage to get here? To my knowledge there were no portals that could be found in the Land Without Magic."

"We used your enchanted water," Emma said simply.

"Of course!" Galahad said snapping his fingers. "I had forgotten about that. Not a fortnight before Morgana cast her curse over me, the king made me a present of a vial of Camelot water. You are aware, of course, of the special properties Camelot water possesses?"

"Can't say we are," Emma said drily.

"It's wondrous!" Sir Gawain exclaimed from the other side of the table. "It has the power to heal minor ills, it slows the ravages of time upon the body, it creates portals to far off realms, it burns away wickedness."

"Powerful stuff," Emma muttered.

"Indeed," Gawain agreed.

"But sir," Hook asked, "why did you keep the water in the Land Without Magic? Cursed as you were you couldn't know its value, but clearly you did consider it an object of importance. Emma told me how much you treasured it."

"It is something I cannot explain," Galahad said slowly. "I always knew instinctively the vial was important. I could never remember where I'd acquired it or for what purpose, but I knew it was to be protected and treasured."

They talked through the morning and long into the afternoon. The knights told daring tales of their lives in Camelot, the splendor of the court, the majesty of King Arthur, the beauty of Queen Guinevere. Emma told a very edited version of her story; she didn't wish to make her dad feel any more guilty than he already did. Hook told tales of his days in the navy and his days as the dashing captain of the _Jolly Roger_.

Emma could hardly believe her eyes when she looked toward the window and saw the sun beginning to set. The day had gone so fast. Much, much too fast. When darkness fell Sir Galahad and Sir Gawain would need to leave to join their fellow knights, and Emma didn't know how she would manage to say goodbye. She'd only just found her dad again, and already she was having to let him go.

Sir Galahad gave her a long, tight hug as he and Gawain prepared to go. "Be strong, my brave girl," he whispered against her hair. She nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady.

Sir Gawain clapped his son on the back and wished him much success. It was ostensibly a far less emotional farewell, but Emma knew her pirate well enough to see the deep wells of emotion he held back.

As the knights stepped out the door, Sir Galahad paused and turned back to Hook. "Keep my daughter safe," he said in a firm voice. "The task ahead will be difficult. She will need a strong arm and a strong heart to protect her throughout."

Hook bowed elegantly. "Sir, I love your daughter to the depths of my soul. If there is anything I can do to help, support or defend her…with my life or with my death…I will not hesitate for a moment."

Galahad nodded solemnly, and then they were gone.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Morgana paced her chamber in considerable distress…as she'd been for the past three days, ever since the blasted knight of the prophecy had performed a successful True Love's Kiss. This was bad. Beyond bad. Calamitous!

She had worked too hard for her power, scrimped, saved, even gone so far as to rip her own brother's heart out and crush it to a fine powder! And now it was in danger of all going up in flames? No!

"Never fear, Mordred," she muttered trying to blot out the image of the young man's confusion and then dawning horror and betrayal as she'd brought him into the chamber and forced him to make the ultimate sacrifice. "I shall see that you don't die in vain! Whatever it takes, I _will_ neutralize this threat!"

But how the bloody hell was she to do that? They had true love, and true lobe was the strongest magic known to mankind. Reportedly even death couldn't put an end to it. So what were her options?

She really had only one option. She couldn't be sure that killing either the knight or his lady would end the threat. The only way to end it would be to kill their love.

What was the most effective way? There was always infidelity. It had worked with Arthur and Guinevere. Morgana had managed to manipulate circumstances to such an extent that Arthur was convinced his lovely bride was having an affair with his most stalwart knight, Sir Lancelot. It had been the final nail in the Round Table's coffin.

Could Morgana convince the lady fair of the prophecy that the knight was unfaithful to her? Could she seduce the man into infidelity? It would be no chore, that's for sure. The knight was one fine specimen of manhood!

Morgana tossed aside the idea almost instantly, knowing instinctively it would be of no use. The man was true as a compass. In the few days she'd been watching the couple in her magic mirror, she noticed his devotion. He was disgustingly besotted. The fool likely wouldn't even see another woman if she danced naked before his eyes! There would be no swaying him from his lady love.

But infidelity wasn't the only form of betrayal, not by a long shot. There was also abandonment. Could she simply abduct the knight and convince the lady he'd left her? No, that idea had no merit either. The lady was a sharp one. She would always wonder about her true love. She would always have that hope that Morgana had deceived her. And as everyone knows, hope is the lifeblood of true love.

Then an idea began to form. Morgana had learned much about the knight and his lady over the course of the past few days, not the least being the lady's insecurities. It seemed the lady was all too used to being left, sacrificed, abandoned, played. It was something she had been tempered to expect.

If she could convince the knight to play the lady false, to crush her heart—figuratively, of course—to make her believe his love had never been genuine, that he'd been cleverly manipulating her the whole time, she could get the lady to withdraw her love. With her love destroyed, she would leave Camelot, and Morgana would be safe!

The knight and the lady had only this day succeeded in freeing the knights from their prison; there was no time to lose. She must put her plans into motion right away!

_Notes__:_

_-Another half-day off of work has rendered me once again productive, and so you have three chapters posted in three days! Don't get too used to it, though, this pace cannot continue. Besides, I can't end this too much before the hiatus is over, can I? How would I get my OUAT fix?_

_-I rather dreaded that whole Emma and Killian and their fathers scene for a number of reasons…not the least of which being several of you indicated in your reviews that you were eagerly anticipating it. Lots of pressure to make it good! I just didn't know where I was going with it, and I was afraid it was going to end up being melodramatic and corny and kind of sickly sentimental. Finally I just dived in, got out of the way, and let Emma and Killian tell the story the way they wanted to. I think it worked; I hope you agree!_

_-I kind of feel bad for Hook. He already had over-protective papa Charming to reckon with. Now he's also got to deal with over-protective foster dad Galahad! Between the two of them, it will be lucky if Hook ever gets within ten feet of Emma again. Of course, I seriously doubt Emma will let her fathers determine her life to that extent!_

_-Well, Morgana's at it again. How will she attempt to persuade Hook to make Emma think he was just playing her, that he's turned to the dark side again? Will Emma's past, the fact that everyone she's loved has left her be enough to over-ride her "superpower" trying to tell her loud and clear that he's lying? This does not sound good!_

_-Up next: Long, long ago in Camelot Morgana has one last knight to get rid of—Sir Lancelot. When she notices that it looks like Lancelot may have a tender feeling or two for the queen, she knows exactly what she must do to get rid of the annoyingly valiant fellow. In present day Camelot, Morgana captures Hook and makes him an offer she thinks he simply can't refuse. Is she right?_


	23. Chapter 23

_Note: I changed the rating to T. I decided Morgana's evilness has officially moved beyond K+ status._

Chapter 23

_Camelot, long, long ago_

Morgana viciously punched the needle through the white, cotton cloth, thinking thoughts too dark to be uttered. From the corner of her eye, she saw the queen giving her quick, furtive looks. The perfumed spring breeze ruffled the tendrils of hair that refused to be corralled into her twisted and braided coif.

It was a beautiful day, but it could have been the dead of winter for all Morgana cared. She'd failed! Failed again! She'd made the ultimate sacrifice, brutally killing the only person she loved, the only person who'd ever really loved her, but the Table _still_ remained intact.

After she'd cast the curse the second time, she'd rushed to the magic mirror and demanded to see Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot. When the first image had crystalized, she'd seen Galahad standing on the sidewalk of a busy road in what must have been Boston. Wherever that was! But Lancelot was not with him. Had she sent the knights to different lands?

Then the mirror swirled and cleared once more, and she saw Lancelot. Where was he? She peered intently at his surroundings and then blanched. It couldn't be! He sat beside King Arthur in this very castle!

She screamed at the mirror to show her the Table. There it stood. The small fissure that had formed when the first ten knights had been dispatched had grown, to be sure; it had spread to reach a good three quarters of the way across the impressive stone edifice. But it remained intact, still intact, _ always_ intact!

"It failed!" she'd shouted, rounding on Merlin. "I performed the spell perfectly, sacrificed my own brother, gave everything I had, and it _failed_!"

The man merely stood there, a maddening smirk on his sparkly golden face.

"I never promised success, dearie," he'd drawled.

She'd flown at him, arms extended, the foulest curses known to mankind floating through her mind. He'd blasted her back with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"Well now, that's just not polite at all," he'd smirked. "After all I've done to help you."

"The Table is still intact!" she'd shouted, too overcome with rage to care that she could be overheard. "What am I missing? What do I need to do to make the curse stronger the next time I cast it?"

"No need to fret about that," Merlin said with his detestable giggle. "You won't be casting the spell again."

"Why the _hell_ do you say that?" she'd demanded.

"Because you're going to give the curse to me," he'd said extending his hand.

She'd scoffed. "You, sir, are delusional if you believe I'll part with the only item that's given me even marginal success in defeating my enemies."

"Delusional I may be, dearie, but you _will_ give me the curse." The smirk had slid from his face and the cold anger that replaced it sent a chill through Morgana. Powerful magic she may have, but she doubted she would fare well against the Dark One.

"W…Why would I do that?" she stuttered.

"Because you owe me a favor," Merlin said. "I'd wager you don't want to know what will happen to you if you break our deal."

"No!" Morgana had said. "I fulfilled our deal! You asked to look into the mirror, and I allowed it!"

He giggled again, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "If you'll recall," he said, "I did not say anything about a favor when I asked to look in the mirror."

She blanched. How could she have been so careless?

"And how do you propose I dispose of Lancelot if I have no curse?" she'd drawled.

"Well, perhaps it's time you get creative," he said with his detestable theatrical wave of his hand.

He'd grabbed the curse and disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke.

"How do you fare this morn, Morgana?" Guinevere asked tentatively, effectively bringing Morgana's mind back to the present.

"Your kindness makes the pain more bearable," Morgana said with a tentative smile.

Guinevere reached over and placed a comforting hand on Morgana's arm. "The pain will lessen, one day."

A wave of grief punched her in the gut. One week ago today she'd stood numbly as she listened to the priest conduct the funeral service. Her brother! Her beloved, trusting, faithful brother! The pain at the thought of never seeing him again was like a living thing, tearing at her.

A tear slid down Morgana's cheek, and she furtively wiped it away. "It was so sudden," she said brokenly. "He was there, and then he was just…gone."

Guinevere's soft eyes were deep wells of compassion. "It must have been agonizing. You being the healer, and unable to save him. You must not blame yourself. These things are in God's hands; there was nothing you could do."

Morgana dropped her eyes and nodded, but an unwelcome stab of guilt assaulted her. Little did Guinevere know that Morgana was precisely the person to be blamed…that God had nothing to do with Mordred's death.

She had to turn the conversation! She could not keep thinking of Mordred. Her grief made her soft, and if she was to succeed in her plots, she must remain hard as nails. Sir Lancelot. She would think of him. There must be _some_ way to dispose of the frustratingly valiant fellow. Merlin advised her to be creative. What the hell did that even mean?

Morgana looked up to find the very object of her scheming striding into view. Tall, dark, handsome, strong as an ox, chivalrous as all get out. Good grief the man was bloody _perfect_! How in all the realms was she to get rid of him?

He caught sight of Morgana and the queen, and stopped abruptly. He bowed deeply.

"Good morrow, ladies," he said in his deep, modulated voice. As he straightened, his eyes lingered for a beat in time on the queen. The look in their cocoa-colored depths…well, tenderness didn't even begin to cover it.

In one blinding flash of insight Morgana's whole world opened up. _He loves her! The "perfect" Sir Lancelot is in love with Queen Guinevere…the wife of his best friend, his liege lord, his king!_ Did she return his affection?

Morgana glanced surreptitiously at the queen. Her eyes held nothing but the polite respect she showed to all her husband's trusted friends and advisers. It seemed true love wasn't to be shaken.

Was there a way to use this new knowledge about Sir Lancelot to her advantage? Would he act on his feelings? Would he make a declaration to the queen? Would his love be strong enough to overcome his ingrained since of honor, duty, and loyalty? If she could somehow manipulate circumstances, could she facilitate a passionate tryst between the knight and the queen? One that King Arthur might just _happen_ to walk in upon? Perhaps she didn't need to curse Lancelot, perhaps she could just wait for Arthur to banish him.

Morgana looked at Lancelot again. His face had once more settled into the lines of polite gallantry he showed all women, and she knew her answer. No. Lancelot was far too moral to even contemplate adultery. Was this it? Was she foiled again?

No. As Merlin said, she needed to get creative. Who said Lancelot and Guinevere needed to _actually_ become lovers? Sometimes a manipulation, a simulation, a ruse could be just as effective as reality.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Your majesty?" Morgana said tentatively, sinking into a deep, submissive bow. "There is something that I must tell you."

Arthur looked at her with polite inquiry. She'd dressed carefully for this interview. She wore a demure, cornflower blue gown that matched her eyes to perfection. She'd curled her hair and left it to hang softly over her shoulders and down to her waist. A judicious application of rouge to her cheeks presented the appearance of a slight blush. She wished to look fresh, pretty, innocent. The mirror told her she'd succeeded. She was the very picture of maidenly beauty.

"Aye, Morgana?" The king asked. "And what is that?"

She let her eyes drift from his, looking uncomfortable. "I've struggled with this knowledge for weeks, unsure what to do. Should I tell you? Should I not? She is your wife, after all, but she's also my closest friend."

"Guinevere?" Arthur asked, distress painting his face. "Is something amiss with my precious Gwen?"

"I…" Morgana faltered strategically. "I'm afraid so."

"What is it?" Arthur asked in alarm. "Is she unwell?"

"Oh no!" Morgana insisted. "Nothing like that! It's just…something I saw, something I wish to God I'd never witnessed!"

"What, Morgana?" Arthur asked turning pale. "By all that's holy, tell me what you know!"

"Well," Morgana said drawing out the single syllable. "Some three weeks ago, Mordred and I were walking the grounds as we were wont to do. I spied your lady some distance before us. She walked slowly, engrossed in her own thoughts. Then Sir Lancelot joined her. They talked for a few minutes, and then…"

"And then what?" Arthur asked sharply.

"And…and then the knight took her in his arms and began passionately kissing her. I was so shocked I simply stood there, rooted to the ground. She wrapped her arms around him, and let him lower her to the ground. I came to my senses then, and turned and fled."

Arthur staggered and took a deep, shocked breath. He shook his head violently side to side. "Nay Morgana," he asserted firmly. "You must be mistaken. As you said you were some distance away. Things could not have been as they appeared. Guinevere and I share true love. She would never betray me. And as for Lancelot? I would sooner believe he would sing troubadours' ballads while dancing naked in the town square than to believe he would seduce my wife."

"As you say, Your Majesty," she said, inclining her head. "I must have been mistaken, but I simply could not carry this burden around with me any longer."

"Thank you for your concern, Morgana," Arthur said formally. He inclined his head, obviously dismissing her.

He didn't believe her tale? No matter. She'd planted a seed of doubt. Now she must simply water it and wait for it to grow.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Over the next few weeks, Morgana did quite a bit of "gardening." First order of business was to get the ugly rumor circulating. The day after her conversation with Arthur, Morgana and Black knelt in the castle herb gardens tending their healing plants. The herb garden was just outside the castle kitchen, which was so perpetually hot that the kitchen maids kept the windows open even in the coldest of weather.

In other words, the herb garden was perfectly suited for the far too gossipy kitchen maids to glean the juiciest of information. Morgana had coached Black well on the conversation.

"Can you believe it?" she asked in a hushed whisper. A curly read head appeared at the nearest window.

"Can I believe what?" Black asked in a perfect imitation of confusion.

"This very morn I saw Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot _walking_ together," she said. Her tone indicated the deepest of scandals. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blonde head topped by a mob cap join the redhead.

"Nothing so extraordinary in that," Black shrugged. "The queen and Lancelot seem to have a rather cordial relationship."

"Oh, Aye," Morgana said significantly. "Their relationship is very…_cordial_. So cordial I wish I'd been a fly buzzing along beside them. I wonder what they were discussing so…_intently_."

Nothing too remarkable, truth be told. That morning, Guinevere had summoned Lancelot to discuss a flaw she'd noticed in the curtain wall…a flaw that could prove to be a security problem if not fixed. Lancelot had walked a respectable two feet away from the queen, his hands clasped behind his back as they discussed the issue. Not a breath of anything personal had entered the conversation. It couldn't have been more innocent if Guinevere had been walking with her own brother.

"What are you suggesting?" Black asked with baited breath.

"Surely you've heard what happened the day before yesterday?" Morgana said intently. A brunette appeared.

"Nay!" Black said in an awed voice. "Do tell!"

Morgana dropped her voice so much that the red head actually leaned out of the window so far she nearly fell to the ground. "That morning just after the king left for his morning rounds of the kingdom, Lancelot came to her room."

"Nay!" Black said, her eyes becoming round as saucers. "What happened?"

Morgana shrugged. "I can't say for sure, of course, but let's just say from the…sounds…coming from the bedroom, I'd wager the pair were getting rather…friendly."

There was a gasp from the window, and then the buzzing of excited voices. Morgana smiled. Her little sapling had taken root.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Two weeks later Morgana set and sprung her trap. It was rather disgustingly easy to manipulate her pawns just as she wished. The queen was predictable as clock work. Every morning she walked the same route, a secluded sylvan path just west of the palace.

Arthur had come to Morgana the previous night complaining of headaches and stomach pains. Morgana knew full well his symptoms were the physical manifestation of the worry and unhappiness he'd suffered recently. Outwardly, he professed absolute confidence in the fidelity of his bride, but the rumors that had blazed like a wildfire in the midst of a drought ridden forest had to be taking their toll. Morgana had given the king a tonic to settle his nerves and suggested he get more exercise to ward off the evil humors.

"Might I suggest a pleasant walk along the sylvan path tomorrow morning, Your Majesty? It runs along the brook, and the gentle babbling will sooth you."

Arthur had acceded with alacrity.

Then there was Lancelot. Morgana had sent Black to the knight with an urgent summons from the "queen." The knight had rushed off without a moment's hesitation.

The timing was so perfect Morgana was convinced fate was on her side. Lancelot reached Guinevere just as Arthur came into view behind them. With a flick of her wrist, Morgana sent a spell wafting over the queen that caused her so much pain, she doubled over. Lancelot caught her, supported her firmly in his arms, and bent his face forward to inquire about her state of health. It looked for all the world like a passionate tryst among the trees.

And then it was all over but the shouting. There was so much shouting! Within twenty-four hours, a furious and heart-broken Arthur had pronounced a sentence of banishment on the hapless Sir Lancelot. Morgana was enlisted to put a spell on the knight to ensure he was not physically able to return.

Twenty-four hours after that, Arthur imprisoned his supposedly faithless wife in the castle's dungeon, and Lancelot was escorted non-too-gently to the outskirts of Camelot and pushed across. The moment Lancelot stepped into No-Man's-Land, there was a powerful rush of magic, like some kind of implosion, and the Round Table split in two.

Arthur was so distraught by Guinevere's infidelity, that he barely put up a fight when Morgana made a bid to wrest control of the kingdom from him. And so a fortnight after the fateful sylvan walk, Morgana found herself seated firmly on the throne of Camelot, its supreme and uncontested ruler.

It had taken years, but she had won! She'd actually won!

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Camelot, present day_

Hook raised himself on one elbow and cradled his head in his one remaining hand. He looked down at Emma as she slept, both hands cradling her head. She was beautiful, far more beautiful than any woman he'd ever come across in his three hundred years seeking revenge. His lass truly was a marvel, he thought as he sat up and ran his hand over the soft blonde waterfall that was her hair. She looked so young in sleep. So young and peaceful.

What had he ever done to deserve her, deserve her love? Her love was like a soft, downy quilt that kept him warm in the midst of the bitterest winter. God knows he didn't deserve what she freely offered him. He'd blackened his heart until it was nearly unrecognizable. He thought for a moment over the many cruelties and injustices he'd committed in his ceaseless quest for revenge. By rights, she should turn from him. Turn and run in the opposite direction.

But she didn't. She knew exactly who and what he was. She knew a fair bit of what he'd done—she'd even been the recipient of some of it. And yet, she was able to look beneath the externals to the man he'd once been, the man he wanted to be again. She inspired him to be that man.

Hook leaned over and bestowed a gentle kiss on the lass's cheek. She stirred and the corners of her mouth turned up, but her slumber was not broken. Hook carefully climbed from the bed they shared and padded over to the hearth. He put several more logs on the fire, hoping to have the cabin comfortable by the time the lass awoke. Then he brewed a pot of coffee, and sat at the table.

Today they planned to begin scouting for the Round Table. When they found it, they would watch it, determine who or what was guarding it, decide how best to approach and repair it. Oh, they had no intention of actually attempting to repair the Table yet. They'd best wait for the knights to return. Their best chance of success would come when the battle had reached fever pitch and Morgana and her men were otherwise occupied.

Hook looked around the tiny cabin and spied the chest where he'd found the blankets he'd slept on that first night. He was curious what else the chest might contain. Rummaging around, he found a sizable stack of blank paper, several quills, and a number of ink wells. It surprised him. As rustic as this cabin was, he hadn't expected its previous occupants to be literate, but clearly they put great store by writing, judging by the quality of the materials.

Taking out several sheets of paper, a quill and ink, Hook returned to the table. Sitting down, he took a swig of his nearly scalding coffee and then began writing. He didn't know if he would ever be able to find the words to tell his Emma what she meant to him, how rich his life had become since she'd entered it, how beautiful she was, how much he genuinely liked her, how much he treasured her support and friendship, how deeply, passionately, eternally he loved her. No. No words could fully describe what was in his heart, but he wrote steadily for three quarters of an hour trying to do his best.

When he'd folded the letter and written her name on the outside of it, he placed it on the small table beside the bed. She still slept soundly. Hook decided rather than sit around the cabin until his lass woke, he would go search for something for breakfast. He scribbled another quick note to tell her where he'd gone, then he grabbed his sword and soundlessly left the cabin.

It was a cold morning; Hook saw his breath before him as he walked along. They were probably approaching December; the snows would move in soon. Would that impede the knights' ability to fight, or would it provide an advantage as Morgana would be off her guard?

The sun was rising in the east, painting the sky with a matchless beauty. Hook smiled to himself. It was amazing how much beauty one noticed and appreciated when he was in love!

He didn't see the strange, amber cloud until he'd nearly walked into it. Something about the cloud disturbed him. There was something…malicious about it. Hook turned and began walking in the opposite direction, but the cloud followed him. He walked more quickly. It picked up its pace. He began running. It followed, gaining on him. Finally, it washed over him, and he fell to the ground, utterly senseless.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

When Hook came to he was seated in a hard, high backed chair in a dimly lit room. His hands—well, hand and stump—were tied behind his back. It appeared to be some sort of healer's room—that or a torture chamber. The walls and floor were made of smooth, unrelenting stone. A table along the far wall contained several knives and other surgical devices. Plants, bottles of liquid, and bandages sat on shelves that lined the other walls.

The large door opened, and a beautiful woman entered. Her black hair was elaborately curled and pinned up along the sides. Her impossibly blue eyes were framed with long, sensuous lashes. Her deep red dress clung to her, and with its scandalously low décolletage, left little to the imagination. She was beautiful…but a feeling of evil clung to her like an offensive odor.

"Well, Captain," she said in a low, smooth voice, "so nice of you to drop in."

"It seems I had little choice in the matter," he said coldly.

"Now, now," she said shaking her head slightly, "what kind of tone is that to use with a lady?"

He made a show of looking from side to side, examining the room. "Odd," he said with a cold smile, "I see no lady."

"Well, as you are no gentleman," she said stopping before him, "but rather a dirty _pirate_ I'll take no offense."

"What do you want?" he asked, tiring of the game this witch was playing.

"Now now, Captain," she said with a pout she obviously meant to be seductive, "the pleasantries must be observed. You haven't even asked my name."

"The legendary Morgana Le Fay, I'd wager," Hook drawled.

"Ah, so my fame has reached even to the Enchanted Forest, I see," she said, running a carefully manicured hand along his arm. "So nice to make an impression."

"I'll ask you again," he said firmly, "what do you want?"

"Oh very well," she said with another pout, seating herself far too close to him. "I have a proposition for you. I think we can be rather…useful…to each other."

"What the bloody hell makes you think I would make any kind of deal with you?" Hook asked scornfully.

"Oh, I have my ways to…shall we say…incentivize you," she smiled secretively.

"Such as?"

"You've seen my kingdom," she said. "I'm prepared to offer you half of Camelot."

"And precisely what do I need to do to obtain said land and riches?"

"A small task, inconsequential, merely a trifle," she said.

Oh, he'd just bet it was a small thing she wanted! Well, as he was rather incapacitated at the moment, he might as well hear her out. "I'm listening," he said shortly.

She leaned closer and patted his leg. It was all he could do to keep from jerking away in revulsion. "I knew you'd come around."

She got up and began pacing. Hook followed her with his eyes. "You see, captain," she began examining a long knife, "there is an old prophecy, a prophecy that I find most distressing. Supposedly, a handsome knight and his blonde lady love will one day come to Camelot, and through their true love, they will overthrow my regime."

"Sounds like a thrilling tale," Hook said with a leering grin, "but I fail to see what it has to do with me."

"Really?" Morgana asked. She picked up the knife and brought its tip to his throat. She slowly drew it down his neck and chest until it caught on his chain. "It's most curious. The prophecy is quite insistent that this knight will have a talisman—a silver cross. In short a cross just like this."

"Well isn't that a coincidence," Hook drawled.

"I think not," Morgana said with a small shake of her head. "Do you know what I think, Captain Hook?"

"I couldn't begin to guess."

"I think you are none other than the knight of the prophecy," she said, a hard glint in her eyes. "What's more, I think your pretty little piece of fluff—Emma, isn't it?—is the lady fair, herself."

"Quite an imagination you possess," Hook said with a smile—a smile that never reached his eyes.

"No," she answered coldly. "I do not. I tire of this sport. Here is what I require. Dispose of Emma, and I shall provide you with more riches than you could ever imagine."

Hook laughed mirthlessly. "If you think I would ever kill Emma, my one true love, you are more of a fool than I took you for!"

"Did I say anything about 'killing'?" Morgana asked with a sly smile. "No, no, no. I don't require you to _kill_ Emma, merely get rid of her. Break her heart. Tell her you don't love her, you never did. Convince her to return to her little friends in the Enchanted Forest."

Hook laughed again. "What part of 'one true love' don't you understand?" he asked. "I love the lass more than my own life. There is nothing in this world or any other that could induce me to betray her."

"Truly?" Morgana asked with an amused grin. She walked over to the table and grabbed an ornate mirror. "I didn't want it to come to this, I truly didn't. I had hoped we could do business in a more amicable fashion, but clearly that's not to be."

She placed the mirror before Hook's face. He looked at it in confusion. All he saw was his own face reflected back at him.

"Show me the cabin!" Morgana hissed. Hook's image blurred, and when it settled, he found himself looking at the cabin he shared with Emma.

"Ah yes," he drawled. "Home, sweet home."

"Look carefully, captain," she said pointing to the corner of the image. Looking closer, Hook made out the form of an archer with his bow pointed straight at the window of the cabin. He sucked in a breath.

"He's not alone, you know," Morgana said silkily smiling at his reaction. "I have no less than twenty-five men stationed at yon cabin. It's completely surrounded."

Hook's heart began to pound, anger flooding his system. If this worthless excuse for a human being laid a _finger_ on his Emma, he would tear her limb from limb!

"Think carefully," Morgana said in a hard voice. "If you refuse me this, I will send the archers in to capture your lady and bring her to me."

"And you'll kill her," Hook said in a hard voice.

"Undoubtedly it will come to that," Morgana said with a shrug, "but not at first."

She walked over to the table and ran her finger across a wickedly sharp looking implement. "Captain, before I was queen, I was a healer. Quite a skilled one at that. Do you know what I learned as a healer?"

"How to heal?" he answered scornfully.

"Oh, aye," she agreed. "But that was not all. I became intimately acquainted with the intricacies of human physiognomy. I learned not merely to heal…but to harm. I have studied for years, centuries maybe, to determine the most effective methods of producing pain."

Morgana picked up a vial of blood-red liquid and caressed it as she would a lover.  
"Take this potion for example," she shoved it in his face. "It moves slowly, oh so slowly through the system. It produces the sensation of burning. The unfortunate who consumes this vial will spend hours in unspeakable agony. It will feel as though a fire is consuming them from the inside out. There is no relief."

Hook tensed in spite of himself.

"Oh, don't worry Captain. This vial isn't meant for you," she said with a grin. "But know this. If you refuse my deal, my archers will bring your precious Emma straight to this dungeon where I will spend hours with my knives, cleavers and potions, wringing every blessed ounce of agony out of her I can."

His blood began to boil, and he struggled against his chains. He hurled the ugliest imprecations in his vocabulary at the witch before him. She merely stood, smiling blandly until he'd finished.

"Oh that is not all," she said as though he'd made no interruption. "No, no, no. That is far from all. You see my men, my faithful soldiers, are lonely. It's been some time sense they've had any…shall we say…female companionship. It would be a shame to deprive them of an opportunity to…get to know a beautiful woman."

Hook's blood ran cold.

"Ah!" she smirked, "I see you glean my meaning. But that's not even the best part. Do you know what the best part is, Hook?"

He refused to give her an answer.

"The best part is that you get to be here. Right there in that very chair. You get to witness every moment of it. Every scream, every cry, every last drop of agony. And then when your precious Emma has been tortured to madness, then I will take pity on her and plunge my dagger into her bloody heart!"

_No!_ He had to protect Emma! At any cost, he had to save her. He heaved an agonized sigh. "What do you require me to do?"

_Notes__:_

_-So this is officially Morgana's favorite chapter to date. She managed to win in both time frames. She better enjoy the sweet taste of victory while she can, because she is going down!_

_-As far as the long, long ago section was concerned, I've never been a big Sir Lancelot fan, at least in the way he's portrayed in most of the versions of the Arthurian legend. He's supposed to be this brave, valiant knight who is unfailingly loyal to Arthur. And then he goes and has an affair with Arthur's wife? Not cool dude! Not cool at all! When I "met" OUAT's version of Lancelot, though, I found myself in a bit of a quandary. I actually _liked_ OUAT's Lancelot. So I decided that in my version of the story, Guinevere remained faithful to Arthur, and Lancelot didn't even consider seducing her. He was framed._

_-In the present day section…yeah, Morgana is just straight up evil. I think she realized that no amount of bribery or torture would induce Hook to betray Emma. Her only chance of getting Hook to do what she wanted was to threaten to have Emma raped and then torture her to madness. Not nice. Not nice at all!_

_-Up next: 8 months ago in the Enchanted Forest, Hook reveals that he's the one the prophecy refers to. Rumple offers to find a way to create a portal back to the Land Without Magic. Meanwhile, Morgana notices Camelot's magic is beginning to fade. She summons the Wicked _

_Witch and gives her some instructions. In present day Camelot, Hook returns to the cabin and puts on a stellar performance as he attempts to convince her that he never loved her, that he was in league with Morgana all along. Will Emma's superpower detect his bs? Fair warning, you may want to have Kleenex handy when reading this chapter!_


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

_Enchanted Forest, 8 months ago_

"Hook?" He looked up and suddenly realized everyone was looking at him. How long had he sat there in his own little world, imagining a beautiful and touching reunion scene with Emma in the Land Without Magic?

"Pardon?" He asked.

The Crocodile rolled his eyes.

"I know your mental faculties aren't all they should be," he drawled, "but I would think it was a simple enough question."

Hook gritted his teeth. How the hell was he going to survive residing under the same roof as this slimy reptile?

"I suppose I was wool gathering," he said in a tight voice. "Would you be so kind as to repeat the question."

Charming put the question to him a second time. "Does the description of the man's talisman ring any bells? Ever seen anything that could be considered a 'cross of sacrifice'?"

Hook grinned and grasped his chain. "In point of fact," he said holding the cross up for inspection, "I happen to be the proud owner of said cross."

An awed exclamation went through the group. Hook shot a surreptitious group at Baelfire. The man looked aside, obviously chagrined.

"So," Snow said in a stunned voice, "you're my daughter's true love?"

"If this prophecy is to be trusted," Hook said, grin still firmly in place, "it would appear so."

"Great!" Belle enthused. "So, all you have to do is go to the Land Without Magic, reawaken Emma's memories, bring her back, and fulfill the prophecy!"

Was that all? Ah, Belle! Optimism personified!

"I'm not sure about this," Hook answered carefully.

"What?" the Crocodile said nastily, "you get everything you want. You find out the woman you've been pining for for months is your 'twue wuv', you have to go retrieve her and bring her back, you get to be the hero, and then you get to presumably live 'happily ever afterward' in true story book fashion. What is the problem?"

"As I do love her more than anything else in the world," Hook shot back, "I have the lass's best interests at heart. How can I uproot her from her happy life with her lad and bring her back to this hamlet of death, destruction and danger?"

"Do you think she could ever be truly and fully happy living a lie? Avoiding her destiny? Separated from her true love?" Belle asked gently.

"I….I suppose not," Hook said.

"Not to throw cold water on this little love-fest," Baelfire said, "but this just isn't going to work."

Hook glared at him. "Are you incapable of accepting reality even when it's slapping you across the face?"

"I'm not an idiot!" Bae growled in obvious frustration. "Do you think I didn't see the way she looked at you in Neverland? The way she always looked to you for affirmation and comfort? Do you think I didn't notice the difference in the way she said goodbye to you and the way she said goodbye to me at the town line? I know I can't compete with you!"

Hook's eyes widened. Belle patted the Crocodile's son with a very motherly gesture.

"Neal," it was Snow who spoke, "if the prophecy is right and Hook and Emma are true loves, you and my daughter wouldn't have truly been happy together anyway. There is someone else for you who will make you happier than you could have ever imagined being with Emma."

"Indeed," Robin said. He turned toward Regina who sat on his left, took her hand, and looked into her eyes. "And I can vouch for the fact that life can go on after you lose your first love. Sometimes a second love comes into your life that can be nearly as powerful as the first."

Regina drew in a quick breath, and her cheeks became rosy. Had Hook _ever_ seen the queen blush?

"I…" Regina stuttered, her eyes glued to those of the outlaw, "I'm starting to think that might be true."

"Yes, well," Baelfire said, "that wasn't what I meant anyway. I was just trying to point out a little logical problem."

"And that is?" Hook asked.

"We're in the Enchanted Forest and Emma's in the Land Without Magic," Bae said slowly. "We have no magic beans, no enchanted wardrobes, no Mad-Hatter's hat, no evil Shadows trapped in coconuts, no way to _get_ from one land to another."

Aye, that was a bit of a logical problem.

"About that," the Crocodile said raising one finger in the air, "I might be able to help you."

"How?" Charming asked.

"Do you think I was stupid enough not to plan for any contingency that might come up?" the Crocodile scoffed. "The minute we discovered the Shadow was loose in Storybrooke, I made a few preparations just in case."

"And those preparations were…" Charming asked.

"I enchanted the contents of my shop so that they would remain with me no matter where I may go."

"How does that help us, Papa?" Bae asked.

"It just so happens that dear, sweet Cora did not use all of the ashes from the burned enchanted wardrobe when she and the filthy pirate went to Storybrooke. It further happens that I was able to…persuade her…to sell me the remaining ashes. It also happens that I was able to get my hands on a certain enchanted compass that will allow said filthy pirate to navigate his way back to…well to where Storybrooke used to be."

"Wonderful!" Snow said. "How soon can Hook leave?"

"It will likely take some time," the Crocodile answered with a small frown, "the ashes in particular did not make the trip back here well. I'll need to spend some time rendering them, shall we say, travel-ready. I'd wager it will be a month or two before the pirate can leave."

Just as well, Hook thought to himself. It would likely take him that long—and longer—to determine the best way to approach the lass and restore her memories.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Camelot, 7 months ago_

Morgana looked in her mirror and frowned. There was _another_ gray hair sticking obstinately out among her jet black locks. That was the fifth one she'd found in as many days! And look at the skin around her eyes! Wrinkled! She was actually getting wrinkles!

Something was wrong; something was dreadfully wrong. For centuries the enchantments on the water of Camelot's spring had held. By rights, her body should have aged no more than a year or two in all that time. Up until a few months ago the water had done its job, and then, it had mysteriously stopped working. She had aged more in the last five months than she had in the previous three hundred years!

It wasn't that Morgana cared about her appearance; her beauty had been nothing but a tool to be used to propel her to power. Now that she held the ultimate power in the land, it didn't matter to her one whit if she became a hideous old crone.

No. What concerned her was the cause of the spring drying up. Something was changing in Camelot; maybe in the entire Fairy Tale Land, and she knew instinctively that the change was not in her favor. It couldn't have anything to do with that old prophecy; it just couldn't! After three hundred years of peace and tranquility, she fancied herself in the clear.

Then _what_ was the problem? Was there someone else trying to wrest power from her? It would have to be someone powerful. Merlin? Nay, it couldn't be him. It had been thirty years since he'd disappeared to the Land Without Magic, a victim of the very curse he'd taken from her. Fool.

Morgana picked up the magic mirror and peered into it speculatively. Would the mirror tell her what she wanted to know? She'd never attempted to ask it a vague, open ended question before. Well, nothing was lost by trying.

"Show me the threat to my rule," she demanded.

As always, the mirror swirled. When it cleared she found herself looking into the master bedroom of Merlin's castle. A couple sat up in the large, ornate bed. The woman had long, curly dark hair and brown eyes, the man blond and blue eyed.

"Charming, this will work!" the woman said excitedly. "True love always wins out, and when she arrives, our daughter will save us all!"

"So many months of waiting, trying," the man named Charming agreed taking his wife into his arms, "and we finally have a plan! Snow, we _finally _know how to defeat the wicked witch!"

"And Morgana Le Fay," the woman, Snow, mentioned. "Our daughter will be able to take her out as well."

Oh this was not good at all! This was nowhere close to good! The Wicked Witch of the West had told her about the new additions to the Enchanted Forest, of course, but she had no idea they could be this dangerous. Something must be done to neutralize this threat!

Clearly this Snow and Charming believed that if they had a daughter, said child would be the key to defeating Morgana and the witch. Morgana had come across enough examples of the power of true love to believe it possible. Well, there was only one thing for it; Snow and Charming must not be allowed to reproduce.

How should she accomplish that? She could have the witch kill them, of course. No, far too messy. Besides, if what the witch had told her about Merlin's house guests was true, she would end up having a riot on her hands if she killed some of their number. She could slip Snow a potion leaving her permanently infertile. No, still not good enough. As long as the pair were together, their true love could still lift its ugly head and bite Morgana.

Best she have the witch imprison them in that bloody castle of hers. In far separated cells, of course. And best she warn the witch to keep a tighter rein on the rest of them.

_Camelot, present day_

Hook walked slowly back to the cabin, feeling as though he were walking to the gallows. It would have been far more merciful and far less painful if Morgana had subjected him to the treatment she threatened Emma with. Pain, unrelenting agony, washed over him once again. How could he possibly do what the bloody witch required him to do? How could he break his beloved lass's heart? Tell her he didn't love her? He'd rather pull his own heart out and crush it to a fine powder.

Hook felt the talisman beat against his chest and laughed mirthlessly. What a twisted sense of humor fate had! He had always believed the 'cross of sacrifice' would signify him doing some great and noble and heroic deed. He thought he would sacrifice his life or at least his freedom for love or some other honorable cause. Instead, here he stood preparing to sacrifice his happiness, his honor, his good name.

Never would his Emma or her family or her friends ever see him as anything short of the most black-hearted villain imaginable after this deed was done. He'd begun to feel more like Killian Jones over the past weeks, but he was about to revert irretrievably to Captain Hook once again. Things had looked so rosy when he'd stepped out of the cabin earlier that morning, but it had been nothing but a mirage. He was a fool to think he could ever escape his fate. Regina had said it at the beginning of their Neverland adventure. He was a villain, and villains don't get happy endings.

But Emma deserved hers! This would crush her, and he hated himself for what he was about to do. Hated, despised, loathed, there wasn't a word in the English language strong enough to describe what an utter reprobate he was!

All too soon the cabin came into view. He hung back for a moment, unable to face the task ahead. What if he told Emma the truth? What if he told her that she needed to leave because Morgana had threatened her? He rejected the idea immediately. Morgana had let him know in no uncertain terms that she would be watching the whole tragic scene in her little mirror. She would know if Hook double crossed her, and her vengeance would be swift and terrible.

As he walked the last few feet to the door, he couldn't help but hope the lass's "superpower" kicked in. Maybe she would see through the ruse. Maybe she would realize he said the awful things he planned to say under duress. He sighed. No, he couldn't hope for that either. If she detected his ruse, would she go away quietly and allow Morgana to have her victory? Not bloody likely, if he knew his lass! Morgana's treachery would make her so angry she'd fight her with even more vigor. Hook couldn't let that happen, couldn't put his beloved Emma in danger. He had to pull off the performance of his life. He had to make her despise him.

Hook's hand trembled as he turned the knob and opened the door. She was standing there, his love letter in hand, tears standing out in her beautiful green eyes. His heart dropped. He'd forgotten about that letter!

As soon as Emma caught sight of him, she dropped the letter and ran to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he reflexively wrapped his around her waist.

"That was beautiful, Hook…Killian," she said tremulously, "and I love you too, with all my heart!"

With that, she pulled his head down and brought his lips to hers. With a soft moan he returned her kiss with passion and abandon. This was it; this was all he'd ever have of his sweet lass. This was as much a goodbye as an expression of their love. The kiss grew more and more fervent, intense, and Hook thought of the bed in the corner. He could do it; he could take her now. He knew she'd let him.

But then his conscience screamed at him. What kind of a monster was he to even consider the possibility when he was about to break her heart? And of course there was the vow to Charming. He may be forced to do Morgana's bidding, but he'd be damned if he gave up his honor!

There was no sense in dragging it out any longer. This had to be done, and the longer he waited, the harder it would be. Hook pulled back from the embrace. It took Emma a moment to open her eyes, and when she did, the look in their depths shattered him. She looked so happy, so content, so _open_.

Hook pasted a leer on his face. "Quite the welcome home, there darling."

"Yeah," she said smiling up at him. "I thought you earned it after this letter."

Hook shook his head, leer still in place. "I'm almost disappointed, Swan," he said. "This was almost too easy; no challenge at all."

Her brows furrowed. "What was too easy?"

"Open book, darling," he drawled. "I knew exactly where to stroke you to make you purr like a kitten."

"What are you talking about?" there was confusion tinged with alarm in her face now.

"Poor little abandoned girl," Hook said, his words making him almost physically ill. "Starved for love, starved for attention. And then along comes a charming pirate who sweeps her off her feet, tells her he loves her, comes _back_ for her when everyone else has abandoned her. Makes her feel like she actually _matters_."

She paled, beginning to grasp the awful implications of what he was saying. "Why are you doing this, Hook?" she whispered, terrible pain in her eyes. "This doesn't make sense! You…you love me!"

"Ah," he chuckled softly, "I certainly wanted to make you think that, love."

"But…but," he was beginning to get truly concerned about her; she looked like she might faint. "But our glowing talismans...true love's kiss! You healed me with true love's kiss! That had to be real!"

He smirked at her. "Perhaps kisses and talismans can be fooled? My acting skills amaze even me sometimes." True enough. He was amazed he hadn't broken down sobbing yet.

"I don't understand!" she wailed, "I love you! I gave you my heart, everything within me!"

He laughed again, the sound anything but cheerful. "I'd advise you to be more careful to whom you give your heart, darling. I am, after all, the worst human around."

And there, finally he told the absolute and unadulterated truth.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

At first she thought he was playing some cruel joke on her, but what could possibly be the punch line in all of this? It didn't make sense, it just didn't make sense! Nothing he was saying could be true.

Emma looked at Hook carefully, searching for the lie. Her superpower hummed slightly, but didn't break out in alarms. He wasn't lying…exactly…but there was certainly something off in what he was saying.

"So what are you saying? That you were just playing me all this time?" her stomach plummeted at the very thought.

"That's more or less the shape of it."

"But _why_?" she whined. "Why go to the trouble of finding me in New York, bringing me back here? Telling me you loved me?"

"Well love," he said, "I've recently made the acquaintance of Morgana Le Fay. You see she has a problem."

"Yeah," Emma in a hard voice. "She's got problems, alright. She's psychotic; I'd already figured that out, regardless of how _gullible_ I might be."

He chuckled nastily. "Oh not that kind of problem, Swan! You see, she is in danger of losing her power, her entire kingdom if a certain _savior _shows up and makes problems for her with a certain talisman."

"And?" Emma asked.

"And," he said, leaning forward slightly, "she's convinced me it's not in my best interest to let that happen."

"What the hell does any of this have to do with you?"

"She's offered me half of Camelot in exchange for my cooperation in…neutralizing the threat."

He looked every inch the ruthless pirate who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. A chill went down her spine. What was he planning to do to her? Surely he didn't plan to…hurt her? She looked into his eyes and relaxed the barest amount. He would never hurt her; she could see that plainly. Whatever he was playing at, he wouldn't physically harm her; it wasn't in him.

"So she's sent you to kill me?" she asked scornfully.

"You wound me lass!" he said mockingly, snagging his hook on her talisman necklace. "I wouldn't_ harm _a lovely such as you."

His eyes held absolute sincerity beneath the mocking sneer.

"I've been instructed to offer you a deal," he said.

"Yeah?" she said, flinching away from his hook and crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "And just what might this _deal_ be?"

"Leave," he said simply. "Go back to your family and friends. Leave Morgana and me in peace."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, then, pet," he said getting in her face, "the twenty-five men Morgana has stationed around this very cabin will storm in, and, well I promise you won't find the results pleasant."

It was like she was talking to a different person. This was not the Hook she knew, Killian Jones, the man of honor. This was a cold, calculating killer. This was the man she'd met in the Enchanted Forest two years ago.

But something wasn't right. Something definitely wasn't right. She would swear he wasn't being quite truthful.

But how reliable was her superpower, really? She remembered talking to Neal in the hotel room at Granny's just before they went off after Tamara and Greg. He'd told her he never really bought her "thing" with lies. Maybe he was right. Maybe Emma was just seeing what she wanted to see.

She was still the lost little girl who wanted so much to be loved. Had she wanted Hook's love so much she deluded herself into believing he gave it to her? She could usually cut through the b.s. like nobody's business. Why hadn't she recognized it when Hook was dishing it out, whispering pretty words, swearing eternal love? He'd been laying it on so thick she should have realized it. Oh God, she really should have realized it!

The pain slammed into her, every bit as violent as if he'd actually struck her. She felt like the wind had been knocked from her. Why the hell had she ever believed things could be different? Why had she allowed herself to believe someone could love her unconditionally? Why had she believed he would stay with her? She knew better than this! She was the savior! She brought back _other people's_ happy endings. She didn't get one for herself.

She couldn't deal with the pain right now; that would come later. For right now, she pulled the comfortable cloak of anger around her. Did Hook think she would cower before him? Dissolve into a puddle of misery? Like hell she would!

"Get out," she said softly, menacingly.

"What was that lass?" he asked, cocking her head in his direction.

"I said get out!" she said, her voice raising with every word.

"What about the deal I proposed?" he asked, looking suddenly intent.

"Yeah," she yelled, "I'll leave. But I swear to you, I'm only going long enough to get an army together. Then I'll be back. I swear to you! I will take down Morgana Le Fay if it's the last thing I do!"

"Be reasonable, lass," he said, looking concerned. "She has powers of which you couldn't even dream!"

"I said get out!" she screamed picking up one of the large clay drinking mugs, prepared to hurl it at him. "Get the _hell_ out of my cabin!"

"Very well, love," he said heavily, stepping out the door.

She threw the mug at the closed door with every ounce of strength she had, and it shattered into a million pieces…just like her heart.

The anger drained all of a sudden, and all she was left with was the pain, stronger by far than what she'd had to endure from her arrow wound. Her strength giving out, she slid slowly to the floor. And then the tears came. Deep wrenching sobs that would never be enough to express her agony.

_Notes:_

_-Well, that was certainly a painful chapter! Sorry about that, but it was necessary. Be glad I at least let you know what was really going on. I originally toyed with the idea of leaving Hook and Morgana's conversation a secret and then telling this heartbreak scene solely from Emma's point of view. That would have upped the drama/suspense level. You'd be left wondering "Has Hook gone bad again or is something else going on?" In the end, though, I decided that I just can't handle even the _thought_ of Hook going back to being bad at this point, so how could I inflict it on you?_

_-This is the moment Emma needs Henry around like none other! She needs him to tell her about how things always look the blackest for the hero and heroine just before they begin to fight and win! Maybe once she's calmed down a little bit, she'll take stalk of those "something just isn't right here" feelings she was having. (Of course, her "superpower" didn't ever 'quite' go off…because Hook never 'quite' lied. The words he said were the truth; he just didn't mean them in the way that they were being perceived.) Maybe she'll also remember how many times in the last couple of years she's realized things just aren't always what they seem. I certainly hope so, because both Hook's and Emma's heartbreak in this chapter just about killed me!_

_-Up next: About a year and a half ago, we see the Wicked Witch of the West take over the Enchanted Forest. You learn about her origins…and exactly how she ended up with an army of flying monkey soldiers. In present day Camelot, Emma leaves and finds the knights of the Round Table in No-Man's-Land. They have a very…interesting…reaction when they hear of Hook's betrayal._


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

_Camelot, 1 ½ years ago_

"You dare to attack me, peasant?" Black shouted in rage. Raising a fist full of pixie dust, she threw it at the miserable excuse for humanity standing defiantly before her. A moment later where a man in his mid-thirties had stood, stood a monkey with large wings.

"Again, Black?" Morgana asked with a shake of her head. It was ten years ago that Black had first turned a peasant into a winged monkey. She had been trying to prove a point then. The woman had defied her, flat out refusing to follow Black's dictates.

"When monkeys fly!" the woman had shouted, spitting at Black's feet. "I'll betray my family and my village when monkeys fly!"

"Oh, very well," Black had answered in a profoundly bored voice. She'd lazily flicked her wrist, and the first winged monkey was created.

Black had decided that she rather liked the flying primate, deeming it "cute." She'd placed the transfigured woman in the dungeon, and since then every single person who'd crossed her had undergone the same fate. By now, Black had a veritable army of the creatures.

"Have you any idea what this _scum_ did to me?" Black yelled in outrage, pointing a perfectly manicured, red-nailed finger toward the docile-looking monkey.

"I couldn't guess," Morgana said.

Black pulled up her left sleeve to reveal an oozing, blistering burn. "He poured water on me. _Camelot water_!" she hissed. "You know what that does to me! I'm burning, melting."

"Calm yourself dear," Morgana said soothingly, "You know I have a salve that will clear your burn up in the blink of an eye, and it appears you've sufficiently punished the perpetrator."

"That's not the point!" Black yelled in outrage. "How did he know about the water? I've kept that a strict secret!"

"Come now, Black," Morgana said, waving her hand and sending the monkey to join his peers in the dungeon, "you know how Camelot is. Nothing is _ever_ secret. And once the vultures in the castle kitchens get ahold of a juicy piece of gossip, they never let it go."

"Easy for you to be complacent!" Black brooded. "Yon peasants haven't learned your weakness, the way to defeat you!"

"I _have _no weaknesses," Morgana said regally, "and I won't be defeated."

"You will if the prophecy is ever fulfilled."

Morgana frowned. Black was becoming more and more unmanageable by the day. With every ounce of power and magical ability she gained, she seemed to become less in awe of her patroness.

Morgana began to second guess the plan she had been formulating over the past few weeks. Was it really wise to give the former fairy this much power and authority? Morgana finally dismissed her concerns. This was for the best; it really was. If she was to expand her reach, she needed a surrogate in the Enchanted Forest. Black would do as well as anyone.

"Yes, well, never mind the prophecy," Morgana said dismissively. "As it has not been fulfilled in hundreds of years, I think I'm safe. I came to see you for an entirely different purpose."

"What's that?" Black asked with interest.

"You have been an incredibly apt and talented pupil," Morgana purred. Flattery never hurt any venture. "I believe it is time to expand your authority."

Black looked intrigued, definitely intrigued. "Expand my authority?" she asked. "How so?"

"It occurred to me that we are setting our sights far too low merely being content ruling Camelot," Morgana said. "It is most certainly time to extend our empire."

"Excellent thought!" Black nodded eagerly. "Where shall we conquer next?"

"The Enchanted Forest," Morgana said. "How would you like to be its supreme ruler…have authority over everyone there? Everyone…such as the fairy who took your wings in the first place?"

A greedy look came over Black's face which was promptly followed by confusion. "But I don't understand, Morgana," she said. "The queen cast the curse a good twenty-eight years ago. Blue and everyone else was sent to that Land Without Magic. What kind of authority will I have if no one is left there?"

"Black do you _never_ listen to the reports from Fairy Tale World?" Morgana asked with a sigh. "The curse didn't take everyone. There was an entire village, not to mention Robin Hood and his Merry Men, and various peasants scattered throughout the countryside. Of course, Cora killed most of the villagers before she and that pirate went to the Land Without Magic. Regardless, there are still plenty in the Enchanted Forest for you to lord it over."

"But this isn't the way I wanted it!" Black whined. "I wanted to punish Blue and all the other self-righteous fairies for their injustice toward me. Lording it over an Enchanted Forest where they have left will not hold nearly the sweetness."

"Patience, Black," Morgana said. It was only with the most heroic effort that she held onto the thin string of her own patience. "I'd not give up on my revenge if I were you. There is a rumor circulating that a 'savior' broke the curse in the Land Without Magic. Now that the residents of Storybrooke remember who they are, I've little doubt they will find a way to return someday. Wouldn't it be interesting for them to return to find you in control of the throne?"

"Wouldn't it indeed!" Black said with a delighted laugh. Then she sobered. "But how can I go back there as the Black Fairy? The disgraced creature who spent hundreds of years in exile? What kind of authority could I possibly wield?"

"Reinvent yourself," Morgana said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Take a new moniker. Something impressive and mysterious. Change your appearance. I can give you a new skin color if you'd like."

"Can you make me green?" Black asked eagerly. "It's always been my favorite color…but I could never wear it. That annoying goody-two-shoes, Tinker Bell, always insisted it was _her_ color and her color alone!"

"Nothing simpler," Morgana said. She waved her hand and Black officially became green.

"Lovely!" Black breathed. "But still. If I do go back to the Enchanted Forest, how am I to exert my authority? You have an entire army, but I haven't a single body guard."

"Come now Black, use your imagination," Morgana said. "You have an entire army of winged monkeys in yon dungeon. They would do nicely, don't you think?"

She looked skeptical. "Well, they are hardly loyal to me. After all, I did ruin their lives. What's to stop them from betraying me the moment I free them from the dungeon?"

"Have I taught you _nothing_, Black?" Morgana asked in exasperation. "Those monkeys don't want to remain monkeys. Offer to return them to their human form if they fight for you. If anyone is still recalcitrant, threaten to hunt down their families and transform them as well. It'll work like a dream!"

"Excellent!" Black exclaimed. "It seems there is but one matter left to decide."

"What is that, dear?"

"What shall my new moniker be?"

Morgana thought for a moment, and then snapped her fingers. "Camelot is west of the Enchanted Forest, so how about this: the Wicked Witch of the West?"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

_Camelot, present day_

Hook stepped out of the cabin and hesitated as he heard the cup smash against the door. A moment later, he heard Emma's wrenching, heartbroken sobs. He closed his eyes as utter desolation swept over him, desolation and loathing. He had done this! This was _his _fault! Oh, Morgana may be ultimately responsible, but he had broken the heart of the most precious person in the world to him. How could he ever forgive himself for this?

The crying continued on and on until Hook was sure the lass would have no tears left. He ached to go back into the cabin, take her in his arms, swear it had all been a mistake. But he had to restrain himself. He had to! For one thing, he would guess he was the last man alive Emma wanted to see now. But more importantly, nothing was more vital than protecting her. He had to make sure she left Camelot. She may grieve for him and what they might have had for a time, but she would be alive. She would heal in the arms of her family…maybe even in the arms of Neal. The thought of his Emma with another man made him feel as though someone had punched him in the gut, but how could he deny her that comfort?

At long last, the sobs quieted and Hook stepped behind a tree. He had very little idea what his next course of action was, but he knew that before he did anything he had to make absolute sure his lass was safely away. Morgana said she would let Emma leave Camelot unmolested, but Hook wouldn't trust that bloody witch any farther than he could throw her! It would be just like the demoness to double cross him, send her archers after Emma as soon as he was safely away.

Emma stepped out of the door. Her face was red and splotchy, her eyes still wet and red-rimmed, but she looked composed. Her face was hard with anger and determination.

"Please lass!" Hook muttered under his breath. "Please don't try to fight her on your own. Please go back to the Enchanted Forest. Go back to the Crocodile's castle, go back to the Knights. Raise your army to fight Morgana, but don't put yourself in danger!"

She walked with determined steps away from the cabin…in the direction of the No-Man's-Land that bordered the Enchanted Forest. Hook heaved a silent sigh of relief. She was leaving. He followed her at a discreet distance until he saw her pass over the border of Camelot, and then he turned around.

The talisman felt warm against the skin of his chest. He pulled it from his chain and examined it. It still glowed fiercely. Did that mean he still had the lass's love despite everything he'd said to her? _Everlasting love_. Her talisman symbolized everlasting love. How he wished that could be true.

As he walked slowly back in the direction of the cabin, Hook's pain slowly began to morph into anger. A cold, deadly righteous indignation fell over him, as heavy as the leather coat he was never without. He would see Morgana defeated! He would see her defeated if it was the last thing he did! He did not make the ultimate sacrifice of his love for nothing.

How exactly he would defeat her without his love, the very other half of his being, he had no idea. He would figure that out as he went. First, and by far most important, he must return to Morgana and ensure she kept her end of the deal. Emma had left; Morgana must promise to leave her safe and whole.

Hook looked once more at his talisman. It wouldn't do to let the bloody witch get her filthy hands on this. Somehow his talisman and Emma's were the key to defeating Morgana, and whatever happened, he had to keep it safe. He walked with purpose back to the cabin, bent at the base of the very tree he had hid behind while waiting for Emma to emerge, dug viciously with his hook, and deposited the talisman in the ensuing hole. He patted the dirt back upon the cross and covered the whole with fallen leaves and bracken. There. It would be safe enough until he determined what to do with it.

Half an hour later, Hook found himself knocking on the huge doors to Camelot castle. With every step his anger had grown until it was finally a mighty leviathan that begged to be released.

A knight dressed in full chainmail armor opened the door. Odd. Did Morgana keep her knights ready for battle at all times or was she planning some kind of campaign? It couldn't be good, whatever the case. The knight looked at him inscrutably.

"The queen is expecting you," he said in a wooden voice. "Right this way, kind sir."

_Kind sir_? He wasn't anything of the sort, and Morgana well knew it!

Hook looked around with interest, curious where Morgana would meet with him this time. The knight led him through the great hall and up a set of stairs in the corner. Several wall sconces cast eerie shadows over the floor. They were going up? So it wasn't the dungeon for him this time.

At the top of the stairs, the knight led Hook down a hallway to an ornate door at the far end. Stepping in, Hook found himself in what was obviously Morgana's private chambers. A huge, elaborate bed sat in one corner beneath a window high on the wall. Along the opposite wall was a blazing fire in the hearth before which sat a table and several chairs. Morgana sat in the large throne-like chair at the head of the table, a golden goblet in one elegant hand. The table was set for a feast. Meats, breads, fruits, delicacies of all kinds.

"Ah, Captain!" she said with a smile, "you've arrived at last. That took rather longer than expected."

Hook clenched his fist willing himself to remain calm. Morgana was a wily bitch, and if he was to best her, he needed to keep a clear head.

"The deed is done," he said through gritted teeth. "Emma has left Camelot."

"Aye," Morgana said with a nasty smile, patting the magic mirror on the table beside her. "So I saw. Such venomous words you spouted, Captain. I'm afraid you left your poor Emma positively heartbroken!"

Hook remained silent. He would not give her the satisfaction of a reply.

"Do you feel no remorse?" she taunted. "No. I suppose you wouldn't. The fearsome Captain Hook has done far worse than play a poor lady for a fool. What amazes me is that you could have ever fooled yourself into thinking a woman, a _hero_, could truly love _you_."

"I've fulfilled my end," Hook said in a tightly controlled voice. "Now I'm here to be sure you fulfill yours."

She looked up at him assessingly. "Oh do stop with the theatrics, Hook," she sighed, "It's so tiresome. Sit. Join me in my celebratory feast. Matters of business can wait."

"I'd sooner break bread with a viper!" he ground out.

"Very well," she said with a sigh helping herself to a slice of mince meat pie. "So you want me to fulfill my part of the bargain, aye? You're ready to collect your half of Camelot."

"Nay!" Hook said angrily taking a seat to the left of Morgana. "I don't want land or riches. I want one thing and one thing only."

"And what might that be? My head on a silver platter."

"I wouldn't turn that down," Hook said with a leering grin, "but I demand something far less costly. Swear to me that you will leave Emma in peace. She's left Camelot; she's no longer a threat to you."

"No longer a threat to me?" Morgana said with a simpering laugh. "My dear Hook, what do you take me for?"

She picked up her mirror and caressed it. "If you think I wasn't watching every delicious moment of that drama, you've deluded yourself. Full well did I hear your lady love's vow to raise an army and come back to fight me."

"Fight the army. Fight it to the death if you must, but my Emma remains safe!" He demanded.

"Oh aye," she said, with a hard glint in her eye. "your dear, sweet Emma remains safe as long as she remains outside the boundaries of Camelot. But the minute she steps back across the border, her life is as good as forfeit. I shall keep a very close eye on your lass in my mirror here. I shall know what she is about!"

Hook moved quickly with the speed of a trained military man. He snatched the mirror from Morgana's unsuspecting fingers and brought it down with crashing force upon the table. The glass shattered until barely a shard clung to the frame. Morgana growled deep in her throat and flicked her wrist, sending a slashing pain across his face.

"Unwise, Hook," she said angrily. "It is unwise to cross me! You think your piece of fluff is safe now that my mirror is gone? Nay! I have spies everywhere! When she returns I will find her, and I promise you, I will treat her just as I told you I would! Your love has nothing to look forward to but violation, torture and death!"

Hook growled, beyond sense, feeling nothing but white hot rage. He lunged for her, but her magic was too strong for him. Morgana shot her hands forward and thick coils of rope bound him to the chair from shoulder to waist.

"Now," she said, a hard glint in her eyes, "are you prepared to behave yourself like a good little boy and eat your dinner properly, or shall I give you a lesson in just what happens to those who cross me?"

He smirked. "I'm anything but a boy, and I'm not hungry."

"Not hungry?" she said with a leer. "Oh, but I believe you are. Perhaps it is merely something _other _than food you are hungry for. I do have a bed in yon corner where we could…satisfy that hunger."

_Really?_ Emma was wrong. Psychotic didn't even begin to cover it.

"Well, pet," he said, smirk still firmly in place, "let's just say if I had to choose between lying with you or lying with the rotting corpse of the ugliest woman ever to walk the planet, you would lose in a landslide."

She didn't like that. Didn't like that at all. The frown made her look positively demented. Well, the outside might as well match the in. She pulled back her hand and slapped him across the face with enough force that his chair would have tipped had she not righted it.

"Very well," she shouted. "You won't accept my hospitality. I grow tired of this. Enjoy your new accommodations."

Morgana waved her hands and chanted in words Hook couldn't understand. Suddenly he felt the rope slip from him, and he had the sensation of flying through the air. Hook closed his eyes; the blurring of the room made him sick. After what felt like hours, he fell to the ground, and something grabbed his good wrist.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes and found himself seated in a rough prison cell. The only light came from the narrow window in the cell door. Hook looked around, and his heart sank. He was in Morgana's prison, and he'd just become aware that the weight on his wrist was a manacle holding him in place at the far wall. Most frustrating of all, his hook was on the far side of the cell, just out of reach.

Hook strained against his bonds, yelling for help, knowing all along it was hopeless. Despair threatened to engulf him. He had to get out, had to warn Emma, had to keep her from returning to Camelot. But he was chained up like a dog, unable to do so much as get to his feet. Never had things looked bleaker.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma had no idea how long she sat on the floor, sobbing, rocking back and forth. There were no words to describe this kind of agony. Finally she'd cried herself out. The pain settled back into a steady, but manageable ache.

Emma roughly swiped her hands against her wet cheeks as the anger came back. She hated him! How could he have done this to her? He'd been so gentle, so tender, so achingly _real_ with her! How could it have just been a trick? Oh, she _despised_ him!

But even more, she despised herself. How had she allowed him past her walls? Why had she let him in…farther than she'd ever let anyone in? Hadn't she learned over and over and over again what happens when you made yourself vulnerable? When you gave another person the ability to hurt you? Yes, it had been wonderful for a few blissful days when she'd let herself believe he loved her like she loved him, but then this happened!

The talisman was warm against her skin. She grabbed the necklace and yanked roughly until the chain broke. Everlasting love? Yeah, that was a _joke_. There was no such thing as everlasting love. The talisman still shone brightly, and Emma had the insane urge to scream at it. Why was it glowing? Didn't it realize that their love was over? That it had died a quick and excruciatingly painful death?

She threw the talisman to the ground, and it landed on a slightly crumpled bit of paper. She picked it up, glanced at it, and her eyes filled with tears once more. It was his love letter; the letter he'd written her before deciding that he'd rather cavort with one of her deepest enemies. Why? Why had he written her such a letter? Did he get off on causing people pain? If Hook's hateful words were the wound, this achingly beautiful love letter was the salt he was massaging into it!

Emma picked up the letter and the talisman and held both to her chest while she let the tears flow once again. She tried to tell herself how much she hated him, but it simply rang false. She knew deep within her heart that she loved him desperately, always would. Whatever it had been for him, it was true love for her, and if she'd learned anything in the two years since she first went to Storybrooke, it was that true love never dies.

Finally the tears ended once again. Emma carefully folded the letter and put it in her pocket. She felt adrift, lost without Hook at her side, but it was time she figure out what to do. She couldn't stay here; she wouldn't be remotely successful on her own. Her best bet was to go find the Knights of the Round Table. Maybe they had some ideas about how to defeat Morgana now that plan A…defeat her with their true love and talismans…was an absolute bust.

Because destroy Morgana she would! The witch may have destroyed her life, but Emma would be damned if she went down without a fight! She would take Morgana down if it was the last thing she did!

Face set like flint, Emma strapped Neal's cutlass to her back and walked purposefully from the cabin and toward No-Man's Land.

Emma walked steadily for two hours, three. She was beginning to become concerned. Where could the knights be? She should have come across their camp by now. Hadn't Lancelot promised he would stay near the Camelot boundary? What if she'd gone the wrong way? Sense of direction wasn't really her strong suit. What if she didn't find them? It wasn't exactly as though there were gas stations around here where one could stop for directions!

Finally, just as Emma was beginning to lose hope, she saw a tent in the distance. Was this them? She walked more quickly, and soon recognized Lancelot's ebony skin among a group of men. She'd found them.

"Lancelot!" she shouted, sprinting forward. He looked up curiously as she reached the group.

"Emma, lass!" her dad said with concern, wrapping his arms around her, "what's amiss? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"Where's my lad?" Sir Gawain asked intently. "Where's my Killian."

"I…" Emma said hating the tremor in her voice. "I don't know."

And then the whole sad, sordid tale came out. She told how she'd awoken this morning to find Hook's love letter, how she'd been filled with joy, utter delight. She told of him returning to the cabin, and by the time she'd finished that part of the tale, the tears were flowing once again.

When she finished speaking, there was total silence.

"Come here, Buttercup," her dad said finally. She collapsed into his arms and sobbed like she had that day so many years ago when Tommy had called her "just a foster kid." Her dad had been able to fix anything, make anything better, when she was a little girl. But this pain, the pain of a heartbroken woman, was beyond anything he could fix.

The knights remained silent as she grieved, letting her have her moment. Once she finally composed herself again and sat back, she looked over their noble faces. She didn't know what she expected their reaction would be. Anger? Outrage? Worry? Certainly not the reaction she got when their silence finally came to an end.

"I can't believe it, lass!"

"Never in a million years!"

"This has got to be a mistake!"

"My lad would never play a woman false in that manner!"

"Perhaps he's been bewitched?"

"The lad is true as a compass, anyone can see that!"

"His love was stronger than anyone I've ever seen!"

"Things are not as they seem!"

_What were they saying? Did they actually think Hook still loved her?_

"My lady," Lancelot said with a small bow in her direction. "Whatever has happened since, there is no doubt in my mind that the man who rescued me from my prison was desperately in love with you. His whole world revolved around you. I'd find it easier to believe someone who told me Morgana Le Fay is a gentle and kind saint of a woman than someone telling me Killian played you false."

Could it be true? A small flame of hope leaped up within her, and then it slowly flickered. Why would he lie to her? Why would he deliberately try to break her heart if he loved her?

"I don't know, Lancelot," she said skeptically. "You didn't hear what he said. You didn't see the look in his eyes."

"My lady," Lancelot said again, "may I see your talisman?"

She shrugged, and pulled the necklace from her pocket.

"I thought as much," Lancelot said with a smile when she'd placed the talisman in his calloused hand. "It glows as bright as the stars in the heavens. Such would not be the case if your love had faded away."

"Well," she said, glancing away, "my love hasn't. That's the hell of it. I…I have this crazy feeling that I'll never stop loving him."

"Excuse me," Sir Gawain stepped up, "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she said with another shrug.

"What reason did my son give for supposedly playing you false?"

"He said something about Morgana offering riches," she said. "He said she'd offered him half of Camelot."

The knights grumbled in obvious irritation.

"And," Gawain continued, "is my son of such a mercenary bent? Would he give up love for the lure of filthy lucre?"

"Well," Emma said furrowing her brow, "no. I mean he was a pirate and everything, and he's not a saint, but as long as I've known him, he hasn't seemed to really be motivated by greed. Love? Revenge? Hurt? Yes, to all of those, but not greed."

"My thoughts exactly," Gawain said with a nod. "No doubt he's changed much since he was that eight-year-old lad I once knew, but in essentials he's the same. He was always ruled by his heart."

"Guys…" she said casting a desperate look around the group. "I want to believe all of this. I do! But, I guess I'm just afraid. I'm afraid of getting my heart crushed again. This pain is bad, but to have false hope? That would kill me."

Her dad took the talisman from Lancelot, placed it gently in her hand, and closed her fingers around it. "This symbolizes everlasting love, as I told you years ago. Perfect love. And I tell you this, perfect love casts out fear. You need only take that tiny leap of faith and believe in your love."

She looked at him for long moments. "I'm not sure I am strong enough to take that leap."

He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders. "Then lean on us until you regain your strength."

_Notes__:_

_-And with Black making the transition to the Wicked Witch of the West and taking over the Enchanted Forest, the long, long ago storyline comes to a close._

_-Well, I think this chapter was _marginally_ less painful than the last one! I don't know what's wrong with me, but I really kind of liked the Hook/Morgana scene. She's so incredibly evil, and he's not, but he's well able to hold his own._

_-The knights flat out refuse to believe Hook's story. Will their confidence convince Emma? Will she find a way to move past the fear and put her trust in the love that she knows deep down that Hook feels for her?_

_-Up next: Around 6 months ago in the Enchanted Forest, Snow and Charming are arrested and thrown into the Wicked Witch's dungeon. Rumple finishes preparing the ashes for Hook to use to create a portal to the Land Without Magic, and Tink offers him help in finding Emma again. Hook spends months searching, and finally finds Emma's apartment in New York. In present day Enchanted Forest, Emma and the knights return to Rumple's castle hoping to find several recruits in their war against Morgana. Henry resurrects Operation Captain Swan._


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

_Enchanted Forest, 6 months ago_

Trumpets and horns playing a regal fanfare cleaved the impossibly early morning air. Hook sat upright at the sound, immediately reaching for the sword he kept just beneath his sleeping pallet in the Crocodile's castle. A glance at the window confirmed it was too bloody early for even the sun to be awake.

The fanfare blared again, and around him men stirred and got tensely to their feet. What the hell was going on? Charming sprinted down the stairs, his wife, clad in a demure white nightgown at his feet.

"What was that?" Charming demanded.

"The hell if I know, mate," Hook responded, shrugging into his shirt and coat.

There was a sound of battering at the door and the chattering of monkeys. Who had come? Friend or foe? A moment later, black smoke filled the great hall, and when it cleared, the Wicked Witch of the West stood regally amid the light of the wall sconces the Crocodile had magically lit as soon as he had entered the hall. She wore an elegant, lacey dress as black as her filthy heart. Every hair was in place, her ever present red manicure showing not a chip.

_Ah, foe, then._

"I do so love grand entrances," the witch said in an almost bored voice, "do you not?"

"I don't recall inviting you to my domicile, dearie," the Crocodile sneered.

"As inhospitable as always, aren't you, Rumple?" she taunted. "So uncouth, so plebian."

Charming stepped forward, sword pointed at their definitely unwelcome guest. "What do you want?"

She shook her head and tsked. "I merely mean to make a morning call," she said in a mock-wounded voice. "What a poor reception you've given me."

"Morning calls are generally paid in the morning, pet," Hook said, stepping forward to join his sword to Charming's.

"Oh very well," the witch said with a sigh. She waved a hand, and Hook felt himself flying backwards. His sword flew from his hand. A moment later, his back connected with the far wall where thick vines held him tight. Hook looked from side to side. Every man and woman in the castle had suffered the same fate. Every man and woman but Snow and Charming, that is. The witch had disarmed them, but left them free.

"The truth, my pretties," the witch said, "is that I have come to neutralize a threat to the safety and security of my kingdom."

"I will ask again," Charming said in a deceptively calm voice. He stepped slightly before Snow, attempting to shield her. "What do you want?"

"Let me spell it out," the witch said, anger tinting her voice. "Some months ago the former _evil queen_ came to my castle, stole what belonged to me, and killed several of my loyal soldiers. She has since disappeared, like the coward she truly is. Now I learn we have even more _royalty_ in our midst."

The look she turned on the Charmings was positively demented. Hook struggled against his bonds. These were Emma's parents; he _had _to come to their aid!"

"And not just any!" the witch continued, stepping forward toward Charming. "No, a prince and princess bound in the bonds of true love. In short, a pair posing extraordinary danger to me."

"You have no cause to threaten us!" Charming thundered. "We've done nothing to you. We've done nothing but live our lives!"

"Oh, but you might, my pretty," the witch said. "You very well might. Should you have children, said offspring will be the product of true love. In short, they will be powerful beyond description, powerful enough to defeat me. That must not happen."

Hook thought of Emma. Did she have the power to defeat this bloody witch?

The witch moved with lightning speed. Her hands shot forward and ropes bound both Charming and Snow tight. They fought against their bonds, but it was of no use. She waved her hand again, and the couple disappeared in a puff of smoke. Hook cried out. He heard similar oaths and expressions around him.

"The prince and princess will remain in my dungeon," the witch said menacingly. "As long as you cooperate and do not cross me, things will go well for them."

She paused for dramatic effect. "But, if there is the slightest whiff of rebellion. If one of you peasants so much as gives my monkeys a dirty look, not only will you join your royalty, but they will be tortured. Think carefully."

With another billow of black smoke, the witch was gone.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"I still think we ought to attack!" Red demanded, looking around the table an hour later. As soon as the witch was safely away, they had convened another council of war.

"Think Red!" Hook said in exasperation. "We cannot endanger Snow and Charming. We cannot risk open warfare!"

"Sadly," the Crocodile drawled, "I must agree with the filthy pirate."

Hook shot him a startled look.

"Don't fret, dearie," the Crocodile said with a sneer, "It won't become habitual."

"But we can't just let the witch take them!" Grumpy insisted, thumping the table before him. All seven of the dwarfs—even happy—looked positively furious. Hook knew they'd styled themselves as Snow's protectors.

"No," the Crocodile agreed, "No, we do not simply allow the witch to take them. We fight the witch; but we do so intelligently."

"In that case, perhaps you best step aside and allow someone else to formulate the plan. You know, someone who actually possesses intelligence," Hook said, unable to stop the small jeer at his enemy.

Tinker Bell shot him an exasperated look. "None of that, Hook!" she said in exasperation. "We've got to work together here!"

"Quite so, dearie," the Crocodile agreed sanctimoniously. Hook ground his teeth.

"Do you have a plan, Rumple?" Belle asked from the Crocodile's left where she hung on his arm.

"Yes, Belle," the Crocodile answered, covering her hand with his and looking tenderly into her eyes. "It is the same plan we came to a month past."

"You mean the plan where Hook gets Emma, his 'true love', and brings her back to defeat Morgana Le Fay and the Wicked Witch of the West?" Bae asked sarcastically.

"Precisely, Bae," the Crocodile answered with a nod of his head.

Hook noticed that his rival looked decidedly less than enthusiastic with this plan.

"But Rumplestiltskin," Tinker Belle said, "you told us it would take months to prepare for Hook's journey. With the way things have escalated, we haven't months to prepare our defense."  
"Quite so," the Crocodile agreed. "It so happens that I have scraped together a sufficient amount of the enchanted ashes to create a portal."

"Great!" Red announced.

"No, dearie," the Crocodile said with a grimace. "Not great. There is only ash enough to create _one_ portal. The pirate needs two; one to get to the Land Without Magic, and one to get back. I'm afraid no matter how much I might finesse it, that is all the magic I will be able to coax from the remaining ashes."

"So you're saying our plan is doomed from the start?" Hook asked in exasperation.

"No," the Crocodile said nastily, "if you would cease interrupting and simply _listen_, I might be able to enlighten you."

"Very well," Hook said through gritted teeth, "I'm listening."

"Thank God for small mercies," the Crocodile drawled. "It so happens that there is one, just one way of creating a portal left in the Land Without Magic."

"What's that?" Granny asked.

"There is a man in the Land Without Magic who possesses a vial of enchanted water. Said vial of water will contain sufficient magic to create a single portal. Once you've retrieved Miss Swan, you must locate and obtain said vial."

"Who is this man and where might I find him?" Hook asked intently.

"No idea, dearie," the Crocodile said with his loathsome little giggle.

Well, that was sufficiently vague as to be utterly useless!

"Alright," Hook said with a sigh. "One thing at a time. Time is clearly of the essence. The Land Without Magic is a massive place. How the bloody hell am I to find my lass?"

"I might be able to help with that," Tinker Belle offered. "Years past, I managed to use pixie dust to lead Regina to her true love."

"And you can do the same for me, love?" Hook asked eagerly.

Tinker Belle shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said, "It seems pixie dust is rarer than we thought. There's none to be found but in the witch's castle."

"Then what can you do?" Grumpy asked, well, grumpily.

"I have a small store of fairy dust," Tink said. "It is not nearly as powerful as pixie dust. It won't lead you directly to your Emma, Hook, but it will help you along the way. It will show you whether or not you are heading in the right direction."

The fairy grabbed a small crystal from her satchel and sprinkled a pinch of greenish dust on it. It began shimmering silver.

"Follow this crystal," Tink said. "If you are going in the right direction, it will glow brightly. If you're not, the light will steadily dim."

Hook took the crystal with thanks. Despite the dire situation threatening these people who had become his dear friends, he couldn't help but smile. In mere minutes, he would be heading back to his Emma!

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Six months later, the smile had definitely faded. Hook had searched diligently day after day, consulting his crystal, watching the store of Charming's money steadily dwindle. Hopelessness was beginning to settle in.

Hook screwed on his false hand and looked up with interest. So this was New York. It was a strange and confusing jungle of sights and sounds. Thousands of people of every description hurried around as though the very devil were at their heels. How on earth was he to find his love in this chaos?

Hook looked down at the crystal in his prosthetic hand and smiled. Bewildering as this 'New York' might be, he had finally found the right place. The crystal glowed as strongly as anything he'd ever seen. He was close. He could feel it.

After walking the streets for several hours, Hook found himself standing before a large apartment building. He glanced at the buzzers near the door. If this was indeed the correct building, her name should be emblazoned next to one of the small white buttons. Hook glanced through the names quickly until he came to the one that left his heart racing and his breath catch in his throat.

_Emma Swan—311_

This was it! Oh God, please let this be his Emma!

Hook tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. How was he to get into this blasted building? He waited until a man stepped forward, pulled out a key, and opened the door to the apartment building. The man gave him a curious, disapproving look. Perhaps he had been wrong to insist upon his pirate garb; it had earned him more than a little negative attention. But he wore it still. This was the man his Emma had known. Perhaps the unusual attire would help to jog her memory.

As the wary man shuffled through the door, Hook took his opportunity. He shoved a tiny stick between the door and the doorframe with one booted foot. It did the trick. He forced himself to wait ten minutes; no sense in further alerting the suspicious man.

Five minutes after that, he found himself standing before apartment number 311. This was it. He felt it. After twelve months of sadness, loneliness, longing, he was finally going to be reunited with his love.

Hook raised his good hand and knocked, holding his breath. He waited a moment, and then wrapped again. A moment later, he heard footsteps, and then the door opened.

It was her! His beautiful, wonderful lass! There in the flesh. His heart leapt, and a soft, delighted grin overspread his face.

"Swan!" He breathed the name like a prayer falling from his lips.

_Camelot, present day_

Morgana paced her chamber, frustrated and incensed. The man was infuriating! Utterly infuriating! Was it too much to ask that he cooperate or at least hold his bloody tongue? The pirate was handsome, she'd give him that, gorgeous in fact, but he seemed to have absolutely no respect for her!

She was the queen of Camelot! She didn't take cheek from anyone. Nor did she take rejection. The man was so taken with his darling Emma that he'd refused her offer of a pleasant little romp in her ridiculously comfortable bed! He'd refused her, the most beautiful, sought after woman in all the realms. That was not conceit; that was indisputable fact!

Morgana sat back at her table, nursed her goblet of wine and brooded. What would it be like to have a man love her as deeply as Hook loved Emma? Oh she had no intention of falling in love herself; to be in love was to make oneself vulnerable. Just look at what a mess the good captain was in because he was a besotted fool who flat out refused to think of himself and his own interests. Still, there would be some merit in causing people to fall in love with her. People in love did tend to be far more devoted than those who merely obeyed out of fear.

_Love_. Aye, there was no doubt the bloody pirate still loved his Emma, but what did said lass feel for him? After the convincing performance he'd given back at their cabin, surely that love had been destroyed. She must find out; must determine how much danger she was still in.

The easiest way of determining the lady's state of mind, of course, would be to keep watch on her via magic mirror. Morgana cursed and banged her goblet back onto the table. She couldn't bloody well do that, could she? Hook had broken her mirror. He would pay; oh she would guarantee it. He would pay!

There was really only one other way to determine whether and how much Emma still loved Hook. She must see the talisman. If it still glowed, true love still stood. If it had gone dark, well, she was in the clear. Morgana thought back. The captain wore his talisman around his neck. Had she noticed anything glowing while they talked? No. No, she hadn't. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. Her danger was utterly over.

Morgana grabbed her goblet and brought it once more to her lips, and then paused. His necklace had been different today. What was it? She closed her eyes, visualizing the pirate. She saw the silver chain and the skull pendant…and nothing else. He hadn't been _wearing_ the talisman!

Oh, this could be bad! It was time she paid her little pirate a visit, and it might be best if she brought along a few…tools…that might make him more inclined to tell her what she needed to know.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook slumped against the wall of the prison cave, ready to admit defeat. It was no use. There was no way to free himself from this shackle, let alone this prison. What was he to do? How was he to proceed? He must find a way to get free, to persuade Emma to stay away.

At length he fell into an uneasy sleep, his dreams tortured but formless. The sound of the opening door woke him with a start. He looked up, startled, and more than a little disgusted to see Morgana Le Fay herself stride in. She wore the revealing red dress she'd worn the day they'd met. A look of mingled anger and amusement draped her face. He'd not known Morgana long, but he'd wager all he had that combination could bode no good for him.

Hook awkwardly tried to get to his feet, but the manacle, low on the wall made it impossible. He was forced back to his knees.

"Just what I like," Morgana purred nastily, "a handsome man on his knees before me."

"So kind of you to drop in," Hook drawled. "To what do I owe this loathsome surprise?"

Her eyes flickered. They traveled from his face down to his chest and then back. A hard glint entered her face, and her lips drew back in a snarl. She wasn't angry; she was bloody furious. What was the matter _now_?

"As enjoyable as I find our verbal sparring, my dear captain," she growled, "let's dispense with the, um, pleasantries, shall we?"

"Certainly," he said keeping his leering grin in place. "Particularly as I, unlike you, have no interest in our conversations. I prefer engaging in witty banter with those who have…well…wit."

She growled again, stepped forward and backhanded him across the face. Her ring dug into his cheek, and he felt blood begin to seep from the fresh wound.

"Care to enlighten me about the nature of your visit, pet?" he asked. "Or did you merely come to torture me?"

Morgana set a bag on the ground and took out several sharp looking instruments and a couple vials of potion. Hook eyed them warily. Perhaps it wouldn't do to antagonize this madwoman any more than he had to.

"Torture?" she asked, tasting the word on her tongue and finding it rather sweet, judging by the look on her face. "Aye, I would like nothing more than to torture that exquisite body of yours, Hook, but it needn't come to that. Your choice."

He grinned. "Well, love," he drawled, "if it comes to a choice between torture at your hideously loathsome hands or no torture, I'd choose the latter."

"Excellent," she said through gritted teeth. "Then you need answer but one question. Where's your talisman?"

"Beg pardon?" he asked in mock confusion. He'd known it would come to this sooner or later. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks that he'd had the presence of mind to bury the bloody thing while he had the chance.

"The talisman," she said in a slow voice that made him feel like a particularly dim-witted child. "The cross of sacrifice. The proof that you are the knight of the prophecy."

"Oh that," he said breezily, waving his stump in an offhand manner. "I seem to have lost it."

"Oh I think not," she said getting in his face, "I think you know exactly where it is. And I think you'd best rethink your answer."

"Nay," he said in deadly earnest. "My answer stands. I'll tell you where said talisman is when hell freezes over. I've been told it's a rather hot place. You'll have to let me know when you get there."

She formed her hand into a fist and punched him with the combined weight of her body and her magic. It felt as though his head had been run over by a pirate ship. A steady trickle of blood oozed from his mouth. She walked to her instruments and grabbed a vial of muddy brown potion.

"Perhaps a little drink will help to loosen your tongue," she yelled, thrusting the neck of the bottle between his lips and forcing him to drink. Hook cried out; he couldn't help it. His body convulsed as the pain sliced through him. It was as though thousands of knives sliced him from the inside. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he writhed with the agony. It went on and on, Hook couldn't have told how long. Every moment was an eternity.

Finally the pain lessened and stopped, and he fell to the ground, shaking.

"Well, my handsome one," she said nastily, "has my potion jogged that terrible memory of yours? Are you ready to tell me what I need to know?"

He looked defiantly into her eyes and laughed in her face. She went to work on him once again with her knives and other torture devices. After half an hour he was convinced she was going to kill him. After an hour he wished she would. The witch hadn't been kidding when she claimed to be an expert at inflicting pain. It was all he could do to keep from screaming until he was hoarse, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He may be in her clutches, completely powerless to stop her doing whatever she wished to him, but she _would not_ break him!

As he endured round after round of pain, the thought passed through his head over and over again like a mantra. _I must get free! I must get free!_ But it wasn't of himself he thought, but of Emma. He could not bear the thought of her enduring this.

Finally, at long last, Morgana relented. Hook fell to the ground, breathing heavily. Everything hurt. He was more bruised and bloodied than he had ever been in his life.

Morgana smirked down at him. "Now that you've had a taste, a very small taste, of what I'm capable, what have you to say for yourself? Will you now tell me what you've done with the talisman?"

Hook turned defiant eyes filled with blue fire on her loathed face. "Never!" he spat out in a hoarse whisper.

She chuckled. "Such courage. Such bravery. It's quite admirable, Hook. Foolish, but admirable. It's _almost_ inspired me to kiss your wounds and make them better."

He shot her a furious glare, and then saw the madness enter her eyes. She dropped to her knees before him, and raised his chin with one soft hand. Hook saw what she was about to do, but was utterly powerless to stop it. He barely had the strength to move his head let alone spurn her advances.

Morgana moved slowly forward until her body brushed against his. Slowly she lowered her head until she took, plundered his mouth. Hook struggled against her. Every movement was an agony, but the pain was infinitely worth it if it would get rid of this vile, repulsive woman. The kiss went on and on, and Hook feared he would be sick.

Finally she pulled away and got to her feet. A self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, my fine fellow," she taunted, "what have you to say about that?"

He struggled to his knees, trained his furious glare on her, and deliberately spat at her feet.

She growled and waved her hands. A wall of pain slammed into him, and he felt the blackness rise up, and he welcomed it, letting himself slide into unconsciousness.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Time for bed, my little man," Robin said, tosseling Roland's dark hair.

"Nay, Papa!" the little boy grumbled. "Can't I play a bit longer?"

"Now none of that," Robin answered. "I've already allowed you to stay up an hour later than normal."

Roland pouted, and Regina laughed. "I'll tell you what," she said. "Let me tuck you into bed like a good boy, and I'll tell you a story."

"Really?" his eyes lit up and he turned to his father. "Is it alright Papa?"

Regina looked up and caught the handsome outlaw's eyes. Such warmth and tenderness, as she hadn't seen directed at her in years. He answered the boy, but never let her eyes leave hers.

"Aye, my lad," he said, "It's kind of Regina to care for you so."

Regina felt a blush cover her cheeks.

"Yeah," Henry said coming up to put an arm around the little boy, "and my mom tells the best stories, too."

Ever since Henry had arrived in the Enchanted Forest, he had been spending his time pretty evenly between her and his father. Tonight was his night to spend with her.

Regina pulled back the covers of the bed in the main room, waited for Roland to climb in, and then tucked the blankets around him.

"Once upon a time," she began in a soft voice, "there lived a queen. She had just won a great victory, and she thought she had everything her heart could desire, but it was not enough. The queen was lonely."

Regina droned on and on as she told the story of her adoption of Henry. Roland's eyes got heavier and heavier, until they finally closed.

"And they lived happily ever afterwards. The end," Regina finished.

Roland's sleepy eyes popped open. "I love you," he said sleepily.

Tenderness washed over her. She smiled and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I love you too," she whispered.

A moment later, Roland was asleep. Regina got up slowly so as to avoid disturbing the boy. She looked up to find Robin's eyes on her, a smoldering look in their depths.

"Henry," she said, "could you get us some more fire wood? It's going to be cold tonight."

Henry seemed to thrive on the chore of splitting kindling. Regina had originally been reluctant to let the boy tackle the chore. After all, he was only twelve and the axe was sharp, but Henry had been so eager to learn.

"Ok," Henry said reaching for his coat, "I'll be back in a minute."

"No need to hurry lad," Robin said with a gentle smile at Regina.

And with that Henry was out the door and Robin and Regina were effectively alone together. Robin slowly sat back in his chair.

"Come sit with me, my lady," he said courteously.

"Al…alright," she said more than a little nonplussed. She stepped toward the chair several feet away from the outlaw.

"Not there," he said beckoning her forward. "Come to me lass."

He drew her like a moth to flame. She went to him and took his outstretched hand. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself seated on his lap, his arms around her waist.

"Thank you," he said looking up at her.

"For what?" she asked.

"For the care you take of my son," he said earnestly. "He's been starved of anything close to maternal attention for so long. You've been a godsend."

She blushed with pleasure. "It's nothing Robin," she said dismissively. "Your son is a special little boy. I love spending time with him."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the action. "Regina," he whispered, "I think I'm perilously close to falling in love with you."

Regina's heart swelled. This was real. This was solid. This was right. She brought one hand to the back of his head and drew him up. When her lips met his, it was like a lit match touching a pile of dry kindling. She was on fire. He consumed her. Her whole world could suddenly be distilled down to his lips, his mouth, his insistant, caressing hands.

"Um…well, this is awkward."

Regina sprang forward off of Robin's lap, her hand to her racing heart. "Miss Swan!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma walked through the woods, Henry at her side, Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad a few paces behind.

"So these are real live knights?" Henry asked eagerly. "The Knights of the Round Table?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma said putting an arm around his shoulder, "they're the real live Knights of the Round Table."

"So," he asked looking carefully up at her. "You succeeded? You and Hook beat Morgana?"

Emma's heart clenched. Thinking of Hook hurt. How long would it take before this pain lessened? It had taken years with Neal, and what she'd felt for him was only a shadow of what she felt for Hook.

"Not…" she cleared her throat willing the tears to stay at bay, "not yet, kid. All we managed so far was to free the knights."

"Well that's something, isn't it?" Henry asked hopefully. "By the way, where is Hook? Is he still working on some kind of super-secret mission in Camelot?"

Emma closed her eyes. She'd already told this tale twice—once to the knights and once to Regina and Robin. When Henry had stepped back outside to meet the knights, Emma gave Regina and Robin a quick report of all that had gone down in Camelot. Regina's reaction had been rather interesting.

"So then he…he told me that he'd just been playing me. He…" Emma swallowed hard and looked away. "He said he never really loved me."

Regina snorted, and Emma snapped her head back in time to see the other woman hiding a smile.

"Really?" she asked incredulously. "I know we've had our moments, but I had hoped we'd gotten past the point where you would laugh at my misery."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I'm not 'laughing at your misery', Miss Swan," she said patiently, lacing her fingers with Robin's. "I'm laughing at your statements. I don't know what was going on with Hook, but I can assure you he loves you. He spent every moment in the Enchanted Forest talking about you, brooding about you, wondering how he could live without you. I spent so much time rolling my eyes when he was around it's a wonder I didn't go blind."

Emma's heart leapt in spite of herself. How she wanted that to be true! "But you didn't hear the things he said!" Emma insisted. "You didn't see the look on his face."

"Who knows?" Regina said with a shrug, "Maybe Morgana bewitched him or something. I know that Hook is the man who spent three hundred years pursuing revenge for the woman he loved. I know he gave up that revenge for you. I know that he literally crossed worlds to get back to you. That's love if ever I saw it. And you're telling me he's going to give it up because a psychotic bitch on a power trip offered him land and riches? I might have to start questioning your intelligence, Miss Swan."

"Well," Emma had answered, trying to brush off the hope Regina's words gave her. False hope was exquisitely painful. "In any case, we can't count on him right now."

"So you just gave up?" Regina asked with a sneer. "You're just going to let Morgana and the Wicked Witch of the West win?"

"Of course not!" Emma snapped. "I will take both of them down if it's the last thing I do. It's my parents' lives on the line here not to mention the fact that Henry could be yanked back to the Land Without Magic any time now if we don't resolve this and find a way to keep him here!"

"Do you have a new course of action planned, my lady?" Robin asked.

"Only thing I can think is to fight," Emma answered dragging a hand through her hair. "I figured I'd come back here and recruit as many people as I can to go storm Morgana's castle. No clue if that idea has a chance in hell, but it's the best I can come up with."

"You can count on my bow," Robin said with a bow.

"And my magic," Regina agreed.

A few minutes later, Emma left Robin and Regina's cottage, intent on returning the Rumplestiltskin's castle. Henry had insisted on accompanying her to help her find her way and to make sure she got into the castle safely. She'd enjoyed his company…until he asked about Hook that is.

"Henry," she said "it seems we were wrong about Hook."

"What do you mean, Mom?" he asked. "What were we wrong about?"

"Hook…" she said. "Well, he told me he doesn't love me. He told me he's been working for Morgana all along."

"Come on Mom!" Henry said intently, "you know better than that! Of course he loves you! He told me on the _Jolly Roger_ on our way back here."

"Henry," she said, "I know you like to believe the best of everyone, but sometimes they don't deserve it. Sometimes they screw you over."

"But Mom, this is classic!" Henry insisted. "You know the villain always tries to keep the true love couple apart! This is the part of the story where it looks like the villain succeeds. The heroes always run away just before the final battle. Don't be afraid! I know he loves you."

Why was everyone so freaking convinced of his love?

"Henry…"

"Come on, Mom! I was right about the curse, wasn't I?" Henry asked, "I was right about that poisoned apple turnover my Mom gave you. I'm right about Hook too. We'll just have to work a little harder at Operation Captain Swan."

"Operation Captain Swan?"

Henry looked chagrined. "It's just something Hook and I have been working on. Can't tell you. It's a secret operation, you know, but when it succeeds, you and Hook will both be very happy."

_Notes__:_

_-And with this chapter the 1 year ago section comes to a close. The remainder of the story will take place in the present._

_-Yeah, so things still aren't going too well for Hook. Morgana needs to give it up; he's not going to betray Emma, and he's not going to tell her where the talisman is. Unfortunately, Morgana does not give up easily. She's still got one more nasty little plot up her sleeve where Hook is concerned. Not physical torture this time…but maybe something nearly as cruel._

_-How did you like the little domestic scene between Regina and Robin? I really like those two. I'm excited for their love story on the show!_

_-Everyone seems to be convinced that Hook still loves Emma. It seems like their insistence might be starting to convince her._

_-Up next: Morgana tries a different tactic to get Hook to tell her the location of the talisman. Will she finally succeed? Meanwhile in the Enchanted Forest, Emma reaches Rumple's castle and continues recruiting for the battle. That night she has a very interesting dream…a dream that helps her see a few things in a much clearer light._


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

_Camelot, Morgana's prison_

Hook woke up and groaned. The stone floor of his cave prison was hard as Morgana's black heart. He sat up and groaned again. He hurt. _Everything_ hurt. His muscles were stiff, his wounds taught and swollen. The witch had left him in a right state, that she had. What was that last spell she'd hit him with, the one that finally knocked him out?

Perhaps it had been unwise to push her so far, but after that loathsome kiss, he simply couldn't help himself. No one, man or woman treated Captain Hook like that, and he meant to show her she would never own or break his spirit.

The prison door rattled again, and Hook tensed. Was the bloody witch back again already? Adrenaline pulsed through his body as the lock slowly clicked. He would fight her, overpower her somehow. Hook nearly laughed at himself. How the bloody hell did he, a mere man plan to 'overpower' a sorceress with powers strong enough to rival the Dark One himself?

No matter. If he died in the attempt he would fight this time. He braced himself, planning his strategy. Perhaps if he could catch her off guard, he could get in a few good blows before she was able to react.

The door squeaked open, and the bright morning sun pouring in obscured the features of the woman standing before him. It was Morgana; it had to be. She stepped farther into the room, and he got a good look at her features. It couldn't be! It was…

"Emma!" he breathed halfway between horror and utter delight. "Emma, lass, is it you?"

"Of course it's me, Hook," she said with that familiar look that clearly said he was an idiot. "Who else would it be?"

"Well," he quipped, fighting the urge to reach out for her. "It could have been that bloody pig of a sorceress."

Emma came to him and focused her energy on his manacle. Closing her eyes, she focused her magic forward, willing the iron restraint to do her bidding. A frown marred her features.

"You really shouldn't talk about her that way," Emma said, still concentrating on the manacle. "Not really very polite, is it?"

"Polite?" he asked with a snort. "Lass, since when are you concerned about being polite to the villains you're trying to take down?"

She looked at him, her concentration broken. A look of confusion crossed her features. "I don't know," she said. "It just seemed like 'bad form' as you might say."

Hook shook his head, bemused. Emma went back to work on his bonds. Finally with a burst of magic, the iron broke, and he was free. Hook leapt painfully forward and crushed his beautiful, wonderful love in his embrace.

"You came back!" he whispered into the fragrant mass of her hair. Odd, it was a scent he'd never smelled before; nothing like the lass's normal fragrance. "Despite everything, you came back to me."

Tears were in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks when she pulled slightly away, still sheltering within her embrace. "Of course I came back!" she insisted. "I love you. I've told you that over and over again. I love you and I'll always come back for you."

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. He brought his good hand to the back of her head and pulled her forward, drinking her in like a man finally reaching an oasis in the midst of a vast desert.

In the midst of his love and desire-fogged brain, something was nagging him. Suddenly her words registered. She'd told him again and again? He pulled away gently and furrowed his brow.

"Love," he said, "I don't believe you've told me you love me more than twice in your life."

"No?" she asked. "Maybe I've just thought it inside my head for such a long time that I thought I've verbalized it over and over again."

That seemed strange, but then she was kissing him again, and all thought fled. Oh he'd missed her! He'd ached for her! He'd endure all of Morgana's tortures and more if this heaven was to be his reward.

After long moments, she pulled back and smiled at him. He knew for a fact that he was grinning like an idiot, and he couldn't care less if he tried.

She looked pointedly at his chest and frowned. "Hook?" she asked, "where's your talisman? Surely you didn't lose it. Did you hide it somewhere?"

He frowned, looking more closely at her. "Didn't you find it, love?" He asked in confusion. "Didn't you use the talismans to open the prison door?"

"No, no," she said with a wave of her hand. "I have magic, remember? I just conjured up a little lock-picking spell and voila!"

That was odd. That was definitely odd.

"But lass…"

She stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Enough talking, Hook," she insisted. "I've only just found you again. Let's make up for lost time."

And then she launched herself at him, hitting him with such force that he tumbled to his back, her on top of him. She was ravenous, her mouth nearly assaulting his, her hands roaming freely. She fumbled with the clasps of his leather vest, tore at his shirt. He moaned. She was intoxicating!

"Lass, lass," he said finally, pulling his mouth away, "we must stop. There's no time. We've got to get away before Morgana comes back!"

She looked dazed. She sat up, finger-combed her hair, and blew out a slow breath. "Yeah," she said. I guess we should."

She got to her feet and helped him to his. My but he was sore! She stopped, cocked her head and gave him a curious look. "You never told me, by the way. Where is your talisman?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but then noticed something curious. Her neck was strangely unadorned. "I could ask you the same question, love," he said. "Where is _your_ talisman?"

She looked startled. "Well, I hid it of course," she said with a shrug. "Didn't want Morgana to find it. Come on. Let's go get your talisman and then we can decide what we want to do from there."

He looked at her suspiciously. Something didn't make sense. Something just wasn't right.

"What's there to decide, Swan?" he asked warily. "We use the talismans to reforge the Table and defeat Morgana."

"Are you sure that's the best idea, Hook?" she asked. "I mean, how are we going to ever even get to the table? She's got soldiers everywhere. Maybe we ought to just cut our losses, and go off somewhere where we can be happy together."

This was not like his Emma, not like her at all. "But what about your parents, lass?" he said. "If we don't defeat Morgana they'll languish in the prison. Not to mention the danger to Henry if we don't find a way to keep him here before his potion wears off."

She shrugged. "They'll be alright. They'll figure it out somehow."

And that was when he knew. _This wasn't Emma_! Nothing was more important to his lady than family, _nothing!_

Hook jumped away from her. "Who are you?" he asked in a hard voice.

"What are you talking about," the imposter asked with a frown. "I'm Emma Swan. The woman you love, remember?"

Hook looked for a stick, a stone, a weapon of some kind. "No, pet" he said grimly, "you are not. Emma Swan would never regard the plight of her family with such callous indifference. _Who are you_?"

The imposter sighed and then disappeared in a cloud of white smoke. When it cleared, none other than Morgana Le Fay, herself, was standing there. He lunged at her, furious with her for her deception. Furious with himself for believing it. Aching with the need for it to have been real, for Emma to come back to him.

Morgana flicked her wrist, and he slammed back against the wall, his manacle back in place. The impact sent shock waves of pain through his bruised body.

"Quite the man, aren't you, Hook?" she mocked. "Clever as well as handsome…and a bloody good kisser. I rather wish the ruse could have gone on a bit longer."

He lunged forward, hurling imprications at her, his hatred for her rivaling even that he'd felt for the Crocodile.

She merely laughed, glided out of the cell, and pulled the door closed behind her. A moment later, she was gone.

Hook continued yelling, screaming curses, wishing he could follow up on them. But finally the rage drained and he was left with nothing but emptiness and heartache.

"Emma," he whispered brokenly into the dank air of the prison cell. "It's not what you think love. It's not what you think! I had to protect you. How could you believe I don't love you? You are the very heart that beats within me."

_Enchanted Forest, woods near Rumplestiltskin's castle_

"We better watch out kid," Emma said cautiously. "We're getting close to the castle. We don't want the monkeys to see us."

"Don't worry Mom," Henry said confidently. "They won't bother us. I'm taking you on the secret path we always take back and forth to Robin Hood's cottage. They never notice us."

"All the same," she said grabbing a hold of Neal's cutlass. "I'd rather be prepared."

Henry shrugged but obediently began carefully looking from side to side as they walked. They walked through a clearing in the trees, and suddenly the castle loomed tall before them. She didn't think she'd ever get used to this. Her son's grandfather owned a _castle_. For that matter, her parents owned an even grander castle. The scrawny little Boston foster kid that she'd been would never have believed this!

Emma was eager to gather the army together and get rid of Morgana once and for all, but she had the strangest urge to hang back, slow down. Once safely inside the castle, she'd have to tell her story yet again…maybe multiple times. It was all just becoming too much. She would dearly love Henry to make a distraction so that she could sneak up to a bedroom and get some sleep. Maybe the world would look a little less bleak after a good night's sleep.

Emma stopped abruptly. A monkey sentry guarded the secret entrance at the back of the castle. How would they get past him? Henry blithely continued as if nothing was wrong.

"Kid!" she hissed under her breath. "Get out of sight! There's a monkey!"

He turned and smiled at here. "It's okay, Mom. That's Cedric."

"Cedric?" she asked, utterly bewildered.

"Yeah," he said with a nod, "he's our friend. He's a little…I don't know…_fussy_, I guess, but he's alright."

"Fussy?" Emma asked, brows furrowed.

"Yeah," Henry said. "You know, like he's really big on correct grammar, and he's always talking about the importance of proper diction and elocution and things like that."

"We have a monkey guard named Cedric who's a stickler for _grammar_?" Emma asked, suddenly wondering if she'd fallen asleep and was in the midst of a crazy dream. "How in the world do you know that?"

"He told me," Henry said with a look that said she was impossibly slow.

"He speaks English?"

"Now he does, thanks to Belle and Mr. Gold. Mostly Belle. She made friends with him in the first place."

Trust Belle to make friends with an evil monkey who was trying to kill them all!

"How did that come about, Kid?"

"Well," Henry said, "there was this really nice warm day, and Belle sat outside with one of her books. She saw one of the monkeys watching her, but he didn't look mad or anything. She asked if he wanted to hear the story, and he nodded and sat down beside her. She could tell he was trying to communicate with her, so she got Mr. Gold to bewitch him so that he could speak in English."

"And that's when he got all fussy about grammar?" Emma asked.

"Nah," Henry said, "I guess he's always been. He used to be a professor at the university in Camelot, until the witch turned him into a monkey."

"So he used to be a person?"

"Yeah," Henry said with another nod. "All the monkeys used to. That's where the witch got them; she created them. Cedric said she's forcing them to be her soldiers. If they don't she says she'll make their families and friends into monkeys too."

Emma shook her head. "You know what Henry, I'm starting to really hate this witch."

"Tell me about it."

And with that, they made it to the secret back door. Henry skipped up to the monkey, and Emma tensed, fearing the thing would turn on him. Luckily the monkey remained docile as a lamb.

"Hey, Cedric!" Henry said, "I'm back."

"Ah, Master Henry," the monkey said in a cultured, high pitched British accent. "So good to see you again, and I see you've brought a guest?"

"Yeah," Henry said pushing Emma forward. "This is my mom, Emma Swan."

"A pleasure, my lady," Cedric said with an elaborate bow. "If you will pardon me, I'll inform the castle of your arrival."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Emma?" Belle asked as she sat on her bed on the other side of the sleeping chamber two hours later, "Can I give you a bit of advice?"

"Why not?" Emma asked getting into her own bed. "Everyone else has tonight."

It was very nearly true. As soon as she'd finished her story, for what felt like the five-hundredth time, everyone from the blue fairy to Granny to Tinker Bell to Neal to Mr. Gold had rendered an opinion.

Granted, Gold's opinion was singularly unhelpful. He stood polishing the silver in his kitchen, looking every bit the proprietor of Storybrooke's pawn shop—aside from the scaly golden skin and flamboyant outfit, of course—while _everyone_ else went on and on about how it was not possible that Hook had fallen out of love with her. Even _Neal_ reluctantly said as much, for heaven's sake!

Gold waited for silence—the moment of optimum impact, she assumed—and then smirked at her.

"Come see me when you've ceased to be an idiot, dearie," he said. "Until then, I can't help you."

Belle sat cross-legged on her bed, looking for all the world like a teenager at a slumber party preparing for a long conversation about the cute boys they had crushes on. It was only with great difficulty that Emma refrained from rolling her eyes.

"So," Belle began, "For what it's worth, I've had a lot of time over the last year to ponder love. I've come to a few conclusions. Do you want to hear them?"

"Sure," Emma said bracing for yet another rendition of 'That's impossible. Of course Hook loves you!'

"So many people think of love as just a feeling, an emotion," Belle began earnestly, "but it's not. At least that's not all of it"

"Okay…." Emma drawled. "So if love isn't a feeling, what is it?"

"It's a choice," Belle said, "a conscious decision you make day after day. Some days you feel it. It's like the world is a wondrous place filled with flowers and music and sunshine. Other days, his quirks drive you nuts and you want to scream."

Given the…quirks…of the man Belle had fallen in love with, this last statement was _very_ understandable!

"But through it all," Belle continued, "you know that your life would be a barren wasteland without him. So you _choose_ to go on loving him day after day."

"That's good advice, as far as it goes," Emma said with a small frown, "But…I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell does it have to do with me or Hook?"

"That's the second part of my advice," Belle said with a smile. "Love needs trust, like…like a librarian needs books."

A rather apt simile given the one presenting it!

"Sometimes trust is hard," Belle went on. "Sometimes everything in the world is pointing against it. But if you love, and it's true love you _know_. You know nothing in the world can destroy it."

"Even when the man you think is your true love sends you away?" Emma asked skeptically. "What would you know about that?"

"More than you might think," Belle said with a quirk of her brow. "Rumple sent me away. He thought I was just Regina's pawn, someone she was using to try to strip him of his powers. He simply couldn't believe I could love him."

"And what did you do?"

"I left with a heavy heart, and promptly got kidnapped by Regina, but that's a tale for another day. A tale, I might add, that features your pirate at one point behaving in a far from gallant fashion!"

"So…" Emma said, "you're suggesting I _trust_ in the power of true love even after Hook told me he doesn't love me…that he was just using me?"

"You told us that he healed you with true love's kiss, didn't you?" Bell asked with a gentle smile.

"Yeah," Emma said with a sigh, "at least I thought that's what it was. I was about to go crazy with the pain, and I'm pretty sure I was on death's doorstep. He kissed me, and it was gone. The pain was completely gone, as though it had never existed."

Belle, ever the romantic, sighed in ecstasy. "There, you see?" she asked. "Emma, do you know what is necessary for true love's kiss to work?"

"Uh…true love?"

"Yes!" Belle exclaimed. "True love on _both _sides. If the love had only been on your side, the kiss would not have worked."

The tiny flame of hope that had come to life when the Knights insisted on Hook's love for her, grew and strengthened. Could Belle be right?

"Think about it," Belle continued. "Baelfire told me about your ability to tell when people are lying. When Hook told you he loved you, was he lying?"

"No," the word came out far more swift and sure than Emma had intended. "I…I mean, I certainly didn't detect any lies there."

"What about when he told you he _didn't_ love you?"

"Yeah," Emma said softly. "There was something that just…I don't know…didn't feel right about that conversation. My inner lie detector didn't go off…exactly…but it didn't stay silent either."

"There you go," Belle smiled. "Trust your instincts, 'savior.' They're good. They won't lead you astray."

"I hope you're right Belle," Emma whispered.

"So anyway," Belle said climbing underneath her covers, "that's my advice. Make the choice to love Hook, and trust in that love."

She leaned over and blew out the candle on her night stand. Emma saw her mischievous expression just before the light went out. "Oh and one more thing," Belle said, "goodnight, and have sweet dreams about your pirate!"

"Only if you have sweet dreams about your crocodile," Emma quipped back.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

She took Belle's last bit of advice, although the first dream might not exactly qualify as a sweet dream…

_Emma held onto the bars of Rumplestiltskin's prison, panic enfolding her as she watched Cora and Hook walk away from them. Watched them take their only hope of getting back to Storybrooke._

_ "Hook, wait!" she called out desperately. He stopped and sauntered back to her._

_ "Please don't do this!" she begged. "My son's in Storybrooke. He needs me!"_

_ "Perhaps you should have considered that before you abandoned me on that beanstalk," he said, gesturing to her. What was it in his eyes? Anger, yes, but something more. Betrayal? This was ridiculous. He was a pirate!_

_ "You would have done the same," she said scornfully._

_ He came even closer until his face was mere inches from hers. The air pulsed with that same electricity that seemed to radiate every time she was near the infuriating man. What was this effect he had on her?_

_ "Actually, no," he said slowly, deliberately._

_ Emma dropped her eyes feeling an unwelcome surge of guilt. Hook took a step back and raised his hand. He was holding some sort of petrified…something…on a thin rope._

_ "Do you know what this is, Emma?" he asked. He dangled it before her eyes, and suddenly she recognized it._

_ "The bean that the giant kept!" She said, reaching for it._

_ "Ah, ah," he said, pulling the necklace out of her reach. "Yes indeed. A pirate always keeps a souvenir of his conquests, but this…well this is much more than a mere trinket."_

_ He looked at her, gesturing grandly with the bean. "This is a symbol. Something that was once magical, full of hope, possibility. Now look at it. Dried up, dead, useless."_

_ He leaned forward. "Much like you," he whispered. "The time for making deals is done, just as I'm done with you."_

_ And then he was walking away. Something resembling pain slammed into her, and she couldn't lie to herself. It wasn't just because their ride back to Storybrooke was getting away. She didn't know why, but the thought of Hook being "done with her" was distinctly unpleasant._

_ But he wasn't. She could see that plainly. It was clear as the daylight that no doubt shone outside of this godforsaken cave that beneath his anger was a deep well of hurt. Could he have been being _honest_ with her at the top of that beanstalk?_

_ And while she was going down "being truthful" road, she might as well admit it. She hadn't left him up there because she _didn't_ trust him…but rather because she was starting to trust him too much. And that scared the hell out of her._

The dream morphed, and became much more defined, much less hazy, much more _real_, for lack of a better word. She saw the scene from the outside, as though she was watching a movie.

_Hook stood at the Camelot line, and watched her disappear into the desert of No-Man's-Land. A look of pain and longing etched his handsome face. He looked like a man condemned to death. He continued watching for several minutes until Emma was far out of sight. Then, with a heartbroken sigh, he turned around and headed back toward the cabin._

_ Hook reached up and grasped the cross talisman as a baby would his security blanket. The piece of metal still shown brightly in spite of all that had happened that morning. What could that mean? Hook pulled the chain over his head and worked the talisman free. He looked at it for a moment as though trying to decide something. Then he nodded his head, put the chain, now free of the talisman, back over his head, and strode purposefully forward._

_ Hook stopped before a huge, gnarly tree just outside their cabin. He stooped down, dug a hole with his hook, and buried the talisman. Straightening with purpose, his face took on a look of anger and determination. Whoever he was going to see, it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation._

The dream changed one last time.

_ Emma looked down upon Hook again. He sat tethered to a wall at the back of a prison. Not just any prison, _Morgana La Fay's_ prison! He looked battered, bruised, as though he'd been through a gauntlet. But it wasn't his injuries that drew Emma's attention…and her pity. It was the look on his face. He looked utterly broken. He looked like a man who had nothing left to live for. Tears streamed down his face, tears that in his solitude he didn't even try to check. He sobbed brokenly._

_ "Emma," he whispered. "It's not what you think love. It's not what you think! I had to protect you. How could you believe I don't love you? You are the very heart that beats within me."_

Emma awoke with a start. She was crying, fat tears streaming down her face. It was true! Everything everyone had been trying to tell her was true. Hook did love her! He'd no doubt lied for some stupid, noble reason.

She didn't even question why she believed the dream. It had felt so _real_. It was as though she'd been standing beside Hook when he buried his glowing talisman, as thought she'd been sitting beside him in the prison cell. Good grief, she'd even felt the cold, dank prison air!

Emma's heart leapt with love and joy…a joy that quickly turned to fear. Hook was in trouble, in desperate, deadly danger. She had to get to him, save him. She leapt from the bed, threw on her discarded clothes and raced down to the great hall. Though dawn was only just beginning to paint the eastern sky, there was not a moment to lose. They had to set out for Camelot _now!_

_Notes__:_

_-Ah, the weekend! It's amazing how much you can get accomplished when you don't have to do weekday-type of stuff—like going to work! :-) It has allowed me to complete two chapters within a twenty-four hour period! Does that count as an admission that I have no life?_

_-The first "dream" was, of course taken from a scene in 2x9. The dialogue is directly from the episode, so I can't take credit for that. It belongs to OUAT._

_-So there you have it. Emma knows what really happened with Hook, and she's ready to set off to rescue him. I have a feeling she'll be ready to do a good amount of a**-kicking once she learns all that Morgana did to her man! I brought the happy "ending" back, Lisa1972. Can I have Killian back? Please? :-)_

_-Up next: Emma heads to the tree where she can dig up the buried talisman and then to the prison to rescue Hook. Robin and Regina accompany her as a kind of "security detail." Meanwhile, everyone else (except Belle and Granny who stay at Robin and Regina's cabin with Henry and Roland) is busy implementing their strategy to take back Camelot. The last time "Emma" came to Hook in his prison, it wasn't really her. Will he recognize the real deal? How will he react when he realizes she's returned to Camelot, thus putting herself in danger?_


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

_Enchanted Forest, Rumple's castle_

"So, I've got to get going _now_!" Emma insisted rising from Rumplestiltskin's large, ornate dining table. "Who knows what else that bitch has done to him!"

The great hall was full to capacity. Knights, Storybrooke resident and merry men sat in rapt attention as they listened to Emma describe Hook's predicament.

"Now lass," Sir Galahad said with an appeasing motion of his hand. "You said yourself it was a _dream_. I'm not sure how wise it is to go back to Camelot under so meager a guarantee."

Emma growled and shot her foster dad an exasperated look.

"Look, Dad," she said, desperate to make them understand, "It's not like that. This wasn't just a dream. It was _real_! I even felt the damp cold of the prison cell! He was hurt, bruises everywhere. And he had this feeling of…I don't know…hopelessness about him. I have to go to him. I'm the only one who can save him. Me and our talismans."

"Alright lass," Galahad said soothingly, "but be reasonable. Now that Morgana knows that you and Hook are the knight and lady of prophecy, she will be waiting for your return. She will protect the prison with dozens of guards, and the castle, where the Table is kept will be well-nigh impregnable."

Emma looked at him in utter disbelief. "If you think I will let _any_ of that stop me from going to the man I love and saving him from torture and who the hell knows what else, you're crazy!"

"No my lady," Lancelot said in his deep, measured tones. "We are well aware of the power of true love. We are aware you must go to your knight. I believe what Sir Galahad is attempting to convey is an insistence that you don't go _alone_."

"Precisely," Galahad agreed with a nod.

"So what are you suggesting?" Emma asked.

"We," Lancelot stated, "the Knights of the Round Table, return with you. It is well past time that we, as a united body return and defend the kingdom that we love."

Emma felt a rush of affection and gratitude to these valiant men.

"Thank you!" She breathed a sigh of relief.

"But you are only twelve men fighting an entire army!" Tinker Bell pointed out. "It would be suicide."

"Nothing to be done for it, my lady" Lancelot said with a bow in her direction. "Morgana must be stopped and for that to happen, we must fight."

"But just like Emma doesn't need to go alone, neither do you," Tinker Bell said. "The fairies can help you!"

"The dwarfs as well," Grumpy offered.

"Us too," Red put in.

"Count the merry men in as well," came the offer from a rough looking man Emma had never met.

"Well, dearies," Rumple said in a bored voice, "I suppose you'll need a sorcerer as well. You need someone to counter Morgana's magic."

"Thank you!" Emma said. "So what's our plan?"

"I think our best bet is to utilize diversionary tactics," Lancelot suggested. "We split up into several groups, each taking a different part of the kingdom. We draw Morgana's soldiers to us, thereby allowing the lady Emma an opportunity to fulfill her purpose."

"Sounds good," Emma said, eager to set out.

"I'm still uneasy," Galahad said. "I don't like Emma going to the prison on her own."

"Why not recruit the love birds in the other cottage as body guards?" Rumple suggested.

And so it was arranged Robin Hood and Regina would accompany Emma on her mission to rescue Hook.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"There it is!" Emma said pointing. "There's the tree where he buried it."

"How could you _possibly _know that, Miss Swan?" Regina asked in a snide voice.

"Because," Emma said with a roll of her eyes, "I _saw_ it. I saw where Hook hid his talisman."

"Yes," Regina said, with her own eye roll, "in your dream."

She didn't have time for Regina's bs. She _really _didn't.

"Look," Emma said rounding on the woman, "are we going to stand here and argue about my dreams, or are we going to do what we _actually_ came here to do?'

Regina opened her mouth to retort, but Robin stepped in before the argument could escalate.

"What shall we look for, my lady?" he asked.

Emma turned to the outlaw. "Look for evidence the ground has been dug up. It should be covered with leaves, debris, stuff like that."

"Very well," Robin said with a small bow.

They searched forever, or so it felt to Emma. The tree was ancient…and thus huge. Finally she found a spot that looked promising.

"Guys," she said, "I think I found it!" She began digging, heedless of her nails chipping. Within moments Emma noticed a kind of glow. She dug faster. There it was! Hook's cross!

"Is that…?" Regina asked stepping up to her.

"Yeah," Emma answered as she gently, almost reverently picked up the glowing, silver cross. Her own circle burned warm and strong against the hollow of her neck. Her talisman called out to his.

Emma pulled the circlet from around her neck and placed it on top of the cross. The two fused almost instantly. Here was proof if she'd still needed it. There was no doubt; his love still burned as brightly as hers. A warmth steeled over her, and the tears sprang to her eyes.

"Well?" Regina asked in annoyance, effectively killing the moment. "Are we going to actually go rescue your pathetic pirate, or are we going to sit here and day dream?"

Emma rolled her eyes again. It seemed she spent all her time doing that whenever Regina was around. She got quickly back to her feet, cradling the conjoined talismans protectively as though they were the most precious objects she'd ever seen.

"Yeah, let's go," Emma said pointing a dirty finger forward. "It's about a mile that way."

They walked slowly, silently, Regina and Robin so close they were nearly touching, Emma off by herself. It was still strange to her, thinking of Regina falling in _love_ with someone…and even more strange thinking of someone falling in love with her. Yes, Regina had grown in the past year or so, but she was still…Regina. But there was no question; Emma recognized the signs. Regina was undoubtedly, unquestionably in love, and Robin was utterly besotted. She shrugged as she walked along. To each their own, she supposed.

That morning, she'd arrived at their cabin along with every other blessed occupant of Rumplestiltskin's castle. Emma was grateful for Cedric and his handful of friends who were most certainly not loyal to the Wicked Witch. It was thanks to their misdirection and distraction that Emma and company had managed to get away from the castle undetected.

After a hurried explanation of the plan, Robin and Regina had prepared to set out with Emma. That's when the difficulty began.

"I want to come with you, Mom," Henry had said firmly. "I can help."

"Henry," Emma had insisted, "I need you to stay here. This is going to be dangerous; no place for a child."

He'd gotten that stubborn expression she'd become way too used to in the year they lived together. The look that said he would not be giving up without a fight. She didn't have _time_ for this.

"Henry," she said sternly, "I'm not asking. You're staying here!"

He'd dug his heels in farther. Both Emma and Regina had tried pleading, commanding, insisting, but Henry stubbornly insisted if they left him, he would just follow after them.

Emma was about ready to tear her hair out, more than a little tempted to tie him to one of the kitchen chairs to make him stay put when Robin Hood stepped in. He walked to the hearth and picked up a small bow and quiver of arrows and handed them to Henry.

"Master Henry," he said gravely. "I need your assistance. Can you be trusted?"

Henry looked surprised. He looked up at the outlaw and nodded. "What do you need help with?"

"Nearly every fighting man and woman will be traveling to Camelot for the fight. That will leave my son alone with Belle and Granny. They will be unprotected."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Granny muttered under her breath. Robin ignored her.

"I need to know that my son, the most important person in the world to me is defended. If the witch or her minions come, I need to have someone here I can trust. Can I trust you?"

Henry stuck his chest out, pride radiating from him. "You can trust me," he said. "I won't let _anything_ happen to Roland!"

Emma looked to Robin and mouthed _Thank you!_ Yes, this strong, steady man would be good for Regina.

"Tell me of the layout of this prison," Robin said, pulling Emma from her thoughts.

"It made Hook nervous," Emma answered, "and with good reason. The prison is surrounded by mountains on three sides. There are plenty of places archers and other assassins can hide. An archer up in the hills nearly killed me the first time we approached the prison."

"Very well," Robin said with a grim nod. "When we reach the prison, allow me to look over the area before we move forward. I will be able to spot likely locations where an archer might take cover. We must be sure we aren't walking into an ambush."

"Okay," Emma answered easily as they walked the last few yards to the clearing before the prison.

This was going to be difficult. The first thing Emma noticed were the ten burly body guards standing before the prison door. Ten to three? She didn't like the odds?

"How are we going to get passed all ten of them?" Emma whispered nervously.

Regina gave her a disgusted look. "Have you forgotten about magic, Miss Swan?" she scoffed. "I could take those ten fools out with one hand tied behind my back."

"I suggest you keep both hands free for fighting, darling," Robin said with a wink. Regina actually _blushed_.

Robin quickly scanned the hills, carefully checking each crack and cranny. "I can't be sure," Robin said after long moments, "but I feel reasonably confident that those ten men are the only we'll have to contend with."

"Excellent," Regina said with her Evil Queen smile.

"On my count," Robin said, "we move forward together. I fire volleys of arrows, Regina does…whatever she plans to do with magic, and Emma readies her cutlass in case any of the villains pass the two of us. Are you ready?"

"I can't wait," Regina said with another evil grin, conjuring a fireball.

"Alright," Robin said, notching an arrow into his bow. "In three, two, one."

They ran forward, battle cries on their lips. The guards were clearly taken unaware, and their small hesitation was their downfall. Within moments, Robin and Regina had vanquished all ten.

"As I said," Regina crowed, wiping her hands against her dress, "piece of cake."

Robin continued scanning the hills, tensed for another attack. Emma was already running forward, the combined talisman held before her.

As before, the key slid into the lock and turned with barely a flick of her wrist, and then the creaky door was opening. The strong morning light poured into the depressing prison, slowly illuminating every inch of the interior. Finally it landed on a crumpled form against the far wall.

"Hook," Emma breathed. And then she was running to him, barely able to see through the tears clouding her eyes.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Hook heard the commotion outside the prison and wished he was close enough to see through the slit in the door. Were those cries of pain? What was going on? He knew full well it couldn't be good, whatever it was. _Nothing_ was good in this godforsaken land.

Then the prison door was opening again. Hook tensed, hating himself for the quiver of fear that came over him. Whatever the witch had in store for him, this time, he would be ready!

His heart began pounding the moment she appeared. She'd come to him as _Emma_ again? Did she have _no_ imagination?

"Back for another rousing round of torture, pet?" he asked with as much scorn as he could muster. Granted, the words sounded rather weak, even to his own ears. He may know full well this vision before him was the bloody witch, but just the sight of his beloved made his heart do somersaults.

"Hook," she said in annoyance, "what are you talking about? I'm here to rescue you, not torture you!"

Her acting had improved immensely, he'd give her that. That 'you are a complete idiot' look was Emma to a tee!

Hook gave her a lazy, scornful look. "Oh, aye," he drawled. "Let's see. Will you ask me the location of my talisman before or after you unsuccessfully attempt to seduce me? No creativity at all, my dear."

"Emma" rushed forward and concentrated on his manacle. She closed her eyes, and her hands pulsed. The clasp fell from his wrist, and he got painfully to his feet. She wouldn't get the drop on him this time!

"Seduce you?" Emma asked grimly. "What the hell are you _talking_ about? We don't have time for seduction, as pleasant as that might be. We've got to get out of here before Morgana sends more of her henchmen."

She moved forward, arms extended. How he longed to step into the hug she was offering! But he didn't. He stepped back, arms raised in the air.

"None of that," he growled. "It may have worked yesterday, but I'll be damned before I'm fooled by you again, witch!"

A look of…something…maybe dawning understanding…passed over her face.

"She took on my appearance, didn't she?" the lass asked. "Morgana pretended to be me to get to you."

"Aye," he said grimly, "that she did"

She stepped forward, reaching for him once again, tentatively this time.

"Hook," she said gently. "I'm no imposter. I _am _Emma Swan. Daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, mother of Henry, former bail bonds person, sheriff of Storybrooke…at least when it still existed, the woman who loves the stubborn and stupidly noble Captain Hook almost to distraction."

His heart leapt. This did sound like his Emma. How could he be sure? If he let himself believe and then found out it was another trick, he didn't think he could survive it.

"If it truly is you, love," he said tentatively, "perhaps you could answer me a question."

"Anything," she said, sitting cross-legged before him. He sat beside her and then reached out and grabbed her hand, couldn't stop himself. She pressed his hand warmly.

"In Neverland," he said, "I asked you how you unlocked the map. What did you tell me?"

He remembered the scene so clearly. He was already desperately, distractedly in love with her, but he hadn't admitted the fact, even to himself. He'd so desperately wanted to help her, to connect with her, to spend every moment he could with her. So he'd done the only thing he could think of to help her through the pain of those difficult days. He'd offered her his flask and his camaraderie.

She smiled. "I believe that was the second time I drank with you," he heard the laughter in her voice. "You asked me how I unlocked the map, and I told you I did what Pan asked. You wanted to know just who I was, and I tried to be, I don't know, flirtatious, I guess. I said 'wouldn't you like to know?'. It was supposed to be just, you know, our usual lighthearted banter, but then you got all serious. You told me you would…like to know, that is, and I ran away."

The spark of hope had flamed into a raging wildfire. "Why?" he asked through a throat tight with emotion. "Why did you run from me?"

"I don't know," she said uncomfortably, looking away. "I guess I was scared."

"Of what, love?"

"Of the love I saw in your eyes," she answered. "Of the fact that I was starting to have similar feelings. I'd been hurt so much. So many people had left me. I couldn't stand the thought of…I don't know…letting someone else get close."

He surged forward and crushed her too him in a hug so tight it was agony to his bruises. He couldn't begin to care. This was her! She'd come back! Hook felt the tears in his eyes. He buried his face in her soft golden hair, the fragrance of lilacs tickling his nose. "Emma," he muttered in a voice choked with emotion, "my love. My sweet, sweet love, you're here."

She sat limply for a heartbeat, no doubt startled by his sudden outburst. Then her arms came around him, and she clung as tightly as he. They sat there for long moments, holding each other, never wanting to let go, whispering incoherent words. He felt the steady stream of her tears fall onto his face.

Finally she sat back, wiped her streaming eyes, and fixed him with a steady look. "Now you answer me a question, and whatever you say, I better believe you."

He nodded acquiescence.

"Do you love me?" she asked. He heard the tremor in her voice and hated that he had caused it.

"Aye," he said, his voice breaking. "Emma, every beat of my heart belongs to you."

"I love you too," she said on a sob.

Then she leaned forward and kissed him gently. He brought his arms around her and reveled in the feel, the smell, the taste of her. It was a gentle kiss, and, alas, far too short. She broke the embrace, and sat back on her heels.

"Why?" there was pain in her voice. "Why would you lie to me like that?"

He brought his good hand to her face and gently caressed it. "I'm sorry, love," he said brokenly, "so desperately sorry for the pain I caused you. I…I didn't know what else to do. That morning, the morning I wrote you the love letter, I decided to search for the Table, see if I could make a bit of progress before you awakened. Morgana Le Fay captured me."

"I should have known she had something to do with it," Emma muttered.

"Aye," Hook nodded, "just so. She knew we were the couple of the prophecy. She gave me an ultimatum. Either I break your heart, send you away, destroy your love for me, or she would capture you and torture you to madness."

"But it's true love, Hook," Emma said gently, caressing his face with one of her soft hands. "Nothing in the world can destroy it."

He smiled gently at her. "Aye, but I suspect Morgana knows very little about true love…or any kind of love."

"Pretty sure you're right about that, if half of what I've heard about her is true."

"Believe me, love," Hook said ruefully, "whatever you've heard, I can assure you it doesn't nearly go far enough to describe the demoness!"

"So," Emma said, "she threatened me…"

"Aye," Hook answered, "and I couldn't risk your safety, love. I couldn't! Torture, death, torment, all those things I'd be more than willing to endure if I must, but to allow you to be subjected to it? Nay! I had to protect you. I know I wounded you. Please, please forgive me lass."

She leaned forward and gave him a quick, fervent hug. "Of course I forgive you."

She sat back and looked stern. "But if you ever lie to me again, I'll pull off your arm and beat you with it!"

He grinned. "Fair enough, lass. Fair enough."

"I love you, Hook," she said, and he could see it in her eyes.

"Lass," he said hesitantly. He couldn't have said why it was important, but there was one thing he desperately needed from her. "Could you call me by my name?"

Her face softened even farther. "I love you, Killian."

They came together again like two magnets. There was a bond so strong he couldn't have fought it if he wanted to. She hesitated for a split second, looking deeply into his eyes, and then she closed the last bit of distance.

This kiss was slow, gentle, filled with so much love it ached. There was no heat, and the passion he always felt with her was carefully banked. It was enough just to feel her lips against his, her hands in his hair, the soft fall of her hair in his hand. This was a giving and receiving of comfort, two hearts speaking to each other, sentiments too tender for them to put into words.

_I love you. I missed you. I'll never send you away again. I'll never leave you. I couldn't breathe without you beside me. I can't stand the thought of being parted from you again. You are my heart, my soul, the best half of my very being._

Without him realizing it, she'd climbed onto his lap, and he held her tightly to him, never wanting the embrace to end. Their mouths meshed, pulled apart and meshed again, each sensation a balm for his wounded spirit.

"Um…" came a mocking voice from the doorway, "well this is awkward."

Hook tensed, but then felt Emma's lips turn up against his.

"I suppose I deserved that," she quipped pulling slowly away from him and getting to her feet.

"Yeah," the woman said, and Hook finally placed the voice even if he couldn't make out the features silhouetted in the bright sunlight. _Regina. _What was _she _doing here? "I figured turnabout was fair play."

A man stepped in behind Regina, and Hook was surprised to see Robin Hood.

"Robin, Regina," he said with a stiff bow. He was still rather sore, after all. "Welcome to my humble abode. I'm afraid the accommodations aren't all that could be desired."

Robin stepped forward and clapped him on the back, and then stepped back suddenly. "Good heavens man," he exclaimed, "what happened to you?"

Hook shrugged. "Let's just say Morgana was rather…insistent to determine the whereabouts of my talisman, and when I refused, well, she showed her displeasure."

Emma's lips tightened. "I'll kill her!" she muttered. "I'll murder her with my own hands. No one messes with the man I love!"

He grinned again. _The man she loved_. He could never hear those words enough.

"Yes," Regina said, "that kind of is the point, isn't it? Defeating Morgana? Do you think maybe we could get to it instead of standing around the freaking prison talking about how much we all love each other?"

"Hmm," Robin muttered with a wicked grin in the evil queen's direction, "talking about how much we love each other, I could go for that."

Regina blushed. "Well, as much as I'd like to gratify you," she said, "we do have a whole castle full of people out their risking their lives so that we can get the Table repaired. Might be kind of ungrateful to throw that away."

Hook grinned again. "Aye, love," he said. "Bad form indeed."

"Alright then," Emma said, putting on her grim battle face and reaching for his hand. "Let's get to the castle, find the Table, repair it, kick Morgana's ass and get back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Lead on, love," Hook said, "lead on."

_Notes__:_

_-Yay! I finally got to write the cs reunion scene! The separation was painful, but I thought it was necessary—both for plot reasons and for character/romance development reasons. Emma is so damaged by the people who have abandoned her, that it's very difficult for her to trust. She needed to get to the point where she's not going to second guess Hook at every turn. "Does he still love me? Is he going to leave me too?" In the last chapter, she embraced the idea of true love—a love that never dies. She made the decision to love Hook and a big part of that love is trust. He's proven himself over and over again, she's got to let go and trust. In a strange, perverse way, Hook lying to her and telling her he didn't love her made her come to that conclusion._

_-Up next: Emma, Hook, Regina and Robin head to the palace. They know the Table is somewhere in the palace, but they aren't sure where. Will they have to fight their way in (or out)? Will they be able to find and repair the Table without interference from Morgana (hint: not likely)?_


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

_Camelot, just outside Morgana's prison_

Emma got her first good look at Hook…Killian, she reminded herself…as soon as they stepped from the dark prison into the bright light of day. She couldn't stop the strangled gasp she emitted. There was no other way to describe it; he looked like hell. He was bruised and battered, dried blood mixed with dirt crusting a nasty cut on his cheek.

"What did she do to you?" she asked in a whisper as she reached a gentle hand to his black eye.

He smiled gently. "Nothing I couldn't handle, love."

"Your wounds need to be taken care of," she said firmly. "Before we do anything else, we need to clean and bandage your cuts."

"Perhaps you would like to take Killian to the stream we crossed on our way here," Robin Hood suggested. "I'll remain and keep watch. Maybe Regina will consent to keep me company?"

"Yes," Regina said simply, smiling up at him. Regina completely free of snarkiness was a thoroughly new experience.

"Sounds good," Emma said, gently taking his arm and steering him in the direction Robin indicated.

"Lass, it's unnecessary, truly," he protested weakly. "We must engage the battle."

"The battle can wait," she said grimly still leading him off.

"I'd give it up, mate," Robin said in an amused voice. "These strong women of ours will have their way come hell or high water."

"Damn straight," Emma said.

Killian smiled and promptly groaned at the pain that action caused his split lip.

The babbling of the spring was calming, and Emma saw Killian begin relaxing as soon as she'd seated him on the grass along the bank. She pulled her satchel from around her shoulder and rummaged around until she found a clean cotton cloth and antibiotic ointment. Before she, Killian and Henry had set out for the Enchanted Forest, she'd thrown as many first aid items as she could fit into her bag, being well aware of the primitive nature of medicine in this realm.

"What's that you have there?" Killian asked warily as she took the large bottle of ointment from her bag.

"Today I'm going to introduce you to the joys of modern medicine," she answered.

He looked positively frightened. She laughed, couldn't help it.

"Don't worry," she said, stooping to the stream and dipping the cloth into the cold, November water. "It won't hurt. Unlike the rum you used on me when you bandaged my cut, I might add!"

"Wish I had some rum," Killian said ruefully. "Might mask some of the pain."

She came back to him and gently dabbed at the cut on his cheek. He sucked in a quick breath at the pain. "Is it really bad?" she asked gently.

"Nay," he answered with a shrug. "It's bearable. The witch did no lasting damage."

They sat in silence for several moments as Emma doctored every cut she could see. Finally Killian spoke again.

"Why did you come back to me, lass?"

She shot him a sidelong glance. "You objecting?"

He grinned and laced his fingers with hers. "Nay. You're like a vision from heaven, but after all I put you through, why did you return."

She busied herself putting her medical supplies away. "For one thing, everyone…even Neal…found it unbelievable that you'd stopped loving me."

Emma remembered the conversation with her former lover.

_"Em, I think you're wrong about this," he'd said in a pained voice as though every word was being ripped unwillingly from his mouth. "There's a lot of…well, history…between Hook and me. I mean he was the one who destroyed my family when I was a boy, and now he's taking you away."_

_ "Neal…"_

_ "No, Em," he'd said with a slashing motion of his hand, "I have to say this."  
"Okay," she'd answered, "I'm listening."_

_ "Whatever his faults, whatever his failings, I've come to realize one thing."_

_ "What's that?"  
"He…he does love you. He didn't even let the fact that you were in different worlds stand in his way. He found a way to get to you. I've never fought for you like that."_

_ "Neal…"_

_ He smiled at her ruefully. "It's the truth. I hate it, but it's the truth. I saw the way he looked at you, the look on his face when you were mentioned in that year we were apart. It was like…I don't know…like he'd lost half of himself."_

_ "I thought that's how he felt about me," Emma said, looking away, "but now I'm just not sure."_

_ Neal sighed heavily. "Trust me on this. Hook has always been fierce and intense in his feelings. He loves you in a way I guess I never could have."_

_ The sad, hangdog look on his face cut her. There was far too much history, far too much pain between them for her to ever seriously consider resurrecting their relationship, but she didn't want to hurt him._

_ "I'm sorry," Emma said. "I want you to be happy, Neal. I really do. I just can't give you the kind of love you want."_

_ "I know," he said with a sad smile. "I see the way you look at him too. Maybe one day I'll find someone who will look at me that way." _

_ "I'm sure you will, Neal," Emma said. "You deserve your happy ending too."_

"Baelfire told you to believe in my love?" Killian asked in astonishment, bringing her back to the present.

"Yeah," Emma answered, setting her bag aside and sitting back in his embrace. His arm across her shoulders, his strong shoulder beneath her head were the most comforting sensations she'd felt in she didn't know how long. "I think he's finally starting to realize that I can't go back to him. He was my past; you are my future."

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

"So you came back to me because everyone else told you I loved you?" he asked.

"Well, that was part of it," she answered.

"And the rest?"

She shrugged. "I decided that I'm not a frail, fragile flower," she said. "If I want someone, I better fight like hell to get him."

He chuckled. "That sounds like my lass!"

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I knew I loved you and I would never love another man that way again. I decided nothing…not even your stupidity…would keep me from doing everything in my power to get you back. And then…"

"Aye," he asked. "And then what?"

"And then there was the dream," she answered a little uncomfortably. No one else seemed to really understand about the dream. "I dreamt I watched you bury the talisman underneath that old tree by our cottage. Then I dreamt of you in Morgana's prison. You were talking about how you did it to protect me; that you love me. You said that I was the very heart within you."

He sucked in a deep breath, and she sat back looking at him carefully. He smiled.

"This connection between us startles me sometimes, lass," he said, caressing her face. "That was the very thing I muttered yesterday after Morgana left following her latest round of torture."

Her heart swelled. Their hearts were so deeply entwined that she could see him, hear him even miles and miles away? Incredible!

Killian's smile faded and was replaced by a look of distinct fear. "Lass, I'm delighted to see you, but you shouldn't have come!  
She rolled her eyes. "Why not?"

"You're in danger, love," he said intently. "Morgana promised me that if you returned she would detain you, torture you, have her men rape you, kill you. And she vowed she would make me watch."

"Lovely woman," Emma said with a grimace.

"You have no idea," he muttered. "I couldn't bear it if she followed through with her threat."

"You think I can bear what I see she did to you?" Emma asked with tears in her eyes as she gently touched the blackened skin around his right eye. "You think I can just walk away and let her hurt you again?"

"I would bear it far better than anything happening to you."

"But Killian," his eyes softened at her use of his given name, "don't you see? This is much bigger than us, bigger than my parents or Henry or our friends. Morgana must be stopped. Who the hell knows what kind of havoc she'll create if we don't stop her now."

"Aye," Killian said warily.

Emma looked deeply into his eyes. "And we're the only ones who can stop her…with our everlasting love and sacrifice. How exactly that works, I don't know, but I know it has to be us."

He let out a slow breath and then nodded. "You're right, of course, love."

"Of course I am," she grinned. "And don't forget. We go against her together this time. With you at my back and me at yours, the bitch doesn't have a chance!"

Killian leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Well than lass," he grinned, "shall we get to it? We'd best return before Robin and Regina come in search of us."

They walked hand in hand back to the prison where they found the other couple in a passionate embrace, mouths fused, hands roaming.

"Killian," Emma said in amusement, "Somehow I get the feeling coming to look for us was the last thing on their minds."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Well, there it is," Emma said grimly, "Camelot's famous castle."

"Aye," Killian agreed. "It's grand, to be sure, but I can't say I enjoyed the amenities the few times I was inside."

"I'm sure you didn't!" Robin agreed.

They'd approached the fortress carefully, slowly, watching for soldiers, knights, vagabonds, anyone who might stop or detain them, but none appeared. Throughout their walk they'd heard the sounds of pitched battle in the distance. It seemed the knights' plan of distraction was working.

"So," Regina said, "we've got to be ready for a fight. You've got to believe Morgana left her castle defended by at least some of her henchmen."

Killian drew his sword. Adrenaline pulsed through him, readying him for battle.

"The element of surprise is on our side," Robin mentioned. "If we move forward quickly, we might be able to take them unawares, and then we might just have the opportunity to find the Table."

"Where exactly is the Table?" Killian asked.

"My dad said it used to be front and center in the great hall," Emma answered, "but he's sure Morgana's moved it now that it's broken. She'll want to keep it safe."

"We won't have much time to act before Morgana becomes aware what we're doing," Regina said. "We've got to find the Table as fast as possible."

"I suggest we split up," Killian said grimly. "My lass and I search the dungeon and other rooms of the lower level while you take the upper floors."

"Works for me," Emma said with a nod.

And then conversation came to a halt. They'd reached the castle's crenellated watch tower. A rough looking man stood in the window, scanning the horizon for threats. His mouth formed a taught "oh" when he caught sight of them. Robin sent an arrow through him before he could sound the alarm.

They raced across the open drawbridge, reaching the massive doors to the great hall without further incident. Their luck held until they'd breached the castle, and then a veritable army of heavily armed knights in full chainmail bore down on them. A calmness washed over Killian. It was always that way just before he entered battle. His emotions would return later; for now all he could focus on was the task before him.

The battle commenced with a flurry of activity. Killian fought like mad with his sword and his hook, employing fancy footwork to step out of the way of his opponents' own weapons. Fireballs and arrows whizzed past his head, courtesy of Regina and Robin, and Emma held her own with her cutlass.

Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw Emma's opponent slash at her with a sword. She cried out, and Killian saw blood begin to drip from the resulting tear in her jacket. He left his own opponent in the lurch and leapt to her side.

"I'm fine," she insisted, rather winded. "I've got this."  
"You sure lass?" he asked.

"Yeah…Killian, watch out! Behind you!"

Killian whirled around just in time to stop a burly knight's sword with his hook. "Many thanks, love," He tossed over his shoulder as he continued to battle.

"No problem," she shot back.

The battle lasted ten minutes, although it felt ten times as long. Finally only one of Morgana's men remained, all the others lying dead or sorely wounded throughout the great hall floor. The remaining man, seeing his predicament, turned tail and ran in the opposite direction over the drawbridge. Robin took aim and released an arrow, but he had misjudged the wind, and the shot fell harmlessly into the moat.

"We have to go after him!" Regina insisted hurrying toward the door.

"No time, love," Killian said, trying to get his breath after the taxing battle. "We've got to get to the Table."

"Oh, very well," she groused, "but if his continued existence comes back to bite us in the ass, don't blame me."

"We shall well remember your warnings," Killian said with a wink.

Without further ado, the two couples split up, Robin and Regina disappearing up the stairway Killian had taken on his last visit to this castle. Killian grabbed Emma's hand and sprinted toward the staircase leading to the dungeon on the opposite wall.

The temperature dropped precipitately the farther they descended into the earth. Killian snagged a lit torch along one of the brackets on the wall of the stairway. At the bottom of the stairs, they were faced with a decision. Left or right? There appeared to be only one room to the left, and Killian peered for a moment through it's open door. The lighting was dim, but he thought he could make out the table and instruments he had been faced with the first time he'd been brought to the castle. The Round Table was most assuredly not in there.

"To the right lass," he said pointing in that direction. She merely nodded and headed in that direction.

"Who…who's there?" a weak male voice commanded. "I command you, show yourselves!"

Killian raced toward the sound of the voice and found himself before a row of crude prison cells. An emaciated man with a matted brown beard and hair that reached to his waist stood at the bars of one, glaring fiercely forward.

"Do not fear," Killian said soothingly, reasoning that any enemy of Morgana's was a friend of his. "We mean you no harm, we merely seek the Round Table."

The man looked at the pair suspiciously. "What mean you to do with my Table? How came you to enter my castle?"

_His Table? His castle? Could this be the king?_

"Would you happen to be King Arthur," Emma asked at Killian's side.

The man bowed courteously. "At your service, milady. Might I have the pleasure of your name?"

"I'm Emma Swan," the lass said, "and this is my true love, Killian Jones."

Oh how he liked the way she introduced him!

"And what are you doing here, Miss Swan?" Arthur asked, not unkindly.

"We're the knight and lady of the prophecy," Emma answered. King Arthur gasped. "We've come to repair the Round Table and defeat Morgana Le Fay."

"At long last!" Arthur breathed. "I've been praying for this day for such a long time!"

"Can you help us?" Killian asked, stepping forward. "Can you tell us where the Table can be found?"

"Aye," King Arthur said with a broad grin. "Continue following this hall to the end, and you will find the door to a large, chamber. The Table is being kept there. The door is sealed with an enchanted lock, but if you truly are the couple from the prophecy, your talismans should act as a key to open said door."

"Thank you!" Emma said, gracing the man with a smile. "And I promise we'll get you out of there just as soon as we repair the Table, Your Majesty."

"No hurry for me," Arthur said with a little laugh. "I've been languishing here for hundreds of years. What's another few minutes?"

Killian led the way to the room at the end of the hall, pulling his talisman from his neck as he went. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emma perform a similar motion. Reaching the door, Emma handed Killian her circle, and he fused the two pieces. Stepping forward, he slid the key into the lock, and easily opened the door.

The room was utterly barren but for the table which had broken into twelve uneven pieces. Killian placed his torch in the waiting brazier, and then turned toward Emma.

"Shall we, lass?" He asked, reaching for her hand.

"Yeah," she answered with a smile. "Together."

They held the combined talismans before them and walked up to the broken table. Killian saw a spot in the very center of the largest piece of the table that held the shape of their combined talismans.

"There, love," he said, gesturing with his hook. "I think we're meant to place the talismans there."

They stretched out their hands, the talismans mere inches away from connecting with the Table, when suddenly they were blasted back.

"How sweet," Morgana Le Fay's loathsome voice called from the doorway. "The lovers plan to fix the table together. Too bad I must break up this tender moment."

Killian got to his feet, trying to step between Emma and the witch.

"It's too late, Morgana," Killian growled. "You cannot stop us. We've won. I suggest you admit defeat!"

She laughed, a low, dark cackle. Emma crept up to his side, cutlass held before her.

"Get back, love," he growled under his breath.

"Not a chance, buddy," she said grimly. "We fight her together."

Killian wanted to insist, but there was no time for arguments. The bloody demoness would attack at any moment.

"Captain, captain," Morgana chided with a grin and a shake of her head. "Thoroughly unable to control your woman, I see. I warned you what would happen if she showed her pretty face in Camelot again, did I not."

And then she struck. A spell shot from her hands so quickly, that Killian barely had time to react.

"No!" he shrieked, and launched himself before his love, taking Morgana's spell right in the chest. He fell to the ground, and darkness claimed him.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Hook!" Emma screamed as she watched him crumple to the ground before her, reverting to the familiar form of his name in her terror.

There was no time to check to make sure he was okay, but Emma had to keep him safe. In a split second, she dropped her cutlass and turned toward him. She didn't know how she knew what to do, but she raised both hands over him. She thought _Please! Protect him! _over and over again. A translucent purple shield formed over his crumpled body. Satisfied that was all she could do for her love at the moment, she turned back to Morgana.

Just in time. The witch muttered an incantation and another spell shot from her fingers. Emma raised her own hands in time to deflect the spell. What was she to do? She might be able to defend herself for a time, but Morgana clearly had the stronger magic.

For long moments the magical battle continued, Morgana casting spells and Emma deflecting them. Fear began to blossom in Emma's chest. With every deflection, she became weaker and weaker. With every moment, it seemed to take more and more effort to summon enough magic to defend herself. If she didn't think of something soon, she would be defeated.

Her eyes fell on the glowing talismans that had dropped to the floor at Killian's side. She had a sudden inspiration. Killian had sacrificed himself for her, maybe everlasting love would be the key to her survival.

She deflected another spell and then dove for the talismans while Morgana geared up for the next attack. Her hand closed around the smooth metal, and she held it out before her like a shield. Emma closed her eyes and concentrated on how deeply, how passionately, how completely she loved Killian. She imagined a future together, a future where they started a family. A future where they grew old together.

Suddenly the light from the talismans grew and shot forward. It met, and then encircled Morgana, until she was completely obscured. It continued to glow for another moment, and then it went out. Where a moment before the sorceress had stood there was now only a large, ornately decorated metal box.

It appeared Morgana Le Fay was finally defeated.

Emma ran to Killian and waved away the protection spell, and then she dropped to her knees before him. He lay still and silent, his eyes closed peacefully. Emma frantically placed two fingers at his neck. There was a pulse! It was weak and thready, but it was there!

"Wake up Killian," she crooned, taking his lifeless body into her arms. "Please come back to me!"

She leaned down and kissed him. For long moments nothing happened. Then, finally, his eyes opened. Confused blue meeting her relieved green.

"What happened, lass?" he asked as he slowly got to his feet. "Where's Morgana."

Emma pointed a finger toward the metal box. "Right there," she said with a smile.

"You are a marvel, darling," he said with a grin, "bloody brilliant! How did you manage to encapsulate the witch?"

Emma held up the talismans. "I used this," she answered. "I pointed it at her and thought over and over again about how much I love you. Light shot out and," she shrugged, "there's the result."

He wrapped his arms around her, and swung her around, laughing in delight. Emma laughed with him. When he finally set her back on the ground, she reached up and gave him a quick hard kiss. When she pulled back, he tried to reach for her again.

"Later, Killian," she said with a smile.

"Ah," he grinned, "you're a hard-hearted lass! What's more important than showing your affection to the man you love?"

She grinned and held up the talismans. "Well, there is the little issue of a Table that needs to be repaired, but after we take care of that little piece of business, make sure our friends who are fighting for us are alright, defeat the Wicked Witch of the West, and find a way to keep Henry from being ripped from us, then I will show you all the affection you could ask for."

His smile broadened. "I'll hold you to that, lass!"

They stepped forward, the talismans held once again in both of their hands. This time there was no interruption. Together they placed warm, glowing metal on cold stone. For a moment, all was still, and then the ground at their feet began to shake. Emma felt Killian's good arm come around her and pull her out of the way. She wrapped her arms around him.

The twelve pieces of the Table moved forward and leaped into the air. They began circling each other, and then with a burst of magic, they knit themselves back together. A moment later, a fully-intact Round Table floated back to the floor. A tidal wave of magic pulsed from the very center and radiated out, over Killian and Emma, through the walls, toward every corner of Camelot.

They had done it!

_Notes__:_

_-Success! Killian and Emma managed to defeat the first villainess and save Camelot—or did they? That's not a foreboding sentence or anything, is it?_

_-Up next: Killian and Emma free King Arthur, and he offers them anything they like as a reward. They have a sudden insight into something that might help them with their Henry-will-be-yanked-back-to-the-Land-Without-Magic problem. But when a very unwelcome intruder shows up…well, things could get a little dicey._


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

_Camelot_

"What happened?" Regina slid to a halt just outside the door where the Table had been kept, Robin at her heels. "I felt a surge of magic."  
Emma turned in Killian's arms and beamed a triumphant smile in their direction. "We did it!"

"You…you did it?" Regina asked as her eyes swept the room. Finally they landed on the large, ancient and completely intact Round Table. Not even a crack was visible on the smooth, stone surface. "You fixed the Table?"

"Aye, that we did," Killian grinned, wrapping an arm around Emma's waist. She brought her hand up to cover his. "Thanks to my wonderful and amazing lass."

"Thanks to both of us, Killian," Emma countered, shifting so she could look into his face.

"If you hadn't stepped in front of Morgana's first spell, it would have hit me, and who knows what would have happened."

"Morgana?" Robin asked in a hard voice. "Morgana Le Fay was _here_?"

"Yeah," Emma grinned pointing to the silver box in the corner. "Still is, I guess."

"You managed to encapsulate her, Miss Swan?" Regina asked with surprise. "That's powerful magic; far beyond your capacity."

"Maybe so," Emma said, placing her own arm around Killian's waist, "but it's not beyond _our_ magic. Sacrifice and everlasting love and talismans and all that."

"Ugh!" Regina said with a half-hearted roll of her eyes. "Any more of this and I'll have to leave. It's getting thick in here."

Robin stepped up beside her. "Oh, I don't know, your majesty," he said in a soft gentle voice. "I think there's something to be said for the power of love."

There was the blush again…and no retort. Emma didn't think she'd ever get used to flustered Regina.

"So," Regina said finally, clearing her throat, "what's next."

"We need to go rescue King Arthur," Emma said decidedly.

"Indeed," Killian agreed. "It would be rather bad form to allow the man to languish in his confinement any longer than necessary."

"I guess if we're doing the whole 'rescue mission' thing," Regina drawled, "We ought to go rescue the queen."

"She's here?" Killian asked.

"Aye ," Robin answered. "She's in the topmost tower. We had just set to work to free her when we felt the burst of magic."

And so they split up into couples again, Emma and Killian freeing the king, and Robin and Regina the queen. Minutes later, there was a tearful reunion, in which both King and Queen reiterated their true love, and it was discovered that the queen had always been faithful to her husband. The rumors of infidelity had been created and spread by (surprise, surprise) Morgana.

"How can we ever thank you?" King Arthur asked with tears in his eyes. "You have given me back my country, my life and my love. No reward would ever cover my debt to you."

Killian waved the thanks away. "For my part, Your Majesties," he said, "I need nothing. "I've already been blessed beyond anything I ever could have deserved."

"Come now," Arthur said with a smile, "there must be something you would wish to have. If it is in my power, I shall grant it."

Emma gasped. It had just occurred to her. There _was _something Arthur and Guinevere could give them.

"Killian," she said turning him to face her.

"Aye, love?" he asked, threading his fingers with hers.

"Maybe they can help us," she said, eyes shining as an idea began to take shape.

"How so?"

"My foster dad, Sir Galahad's vial of 'enchanted water'," she said, "that was Camelot water, wasn't it?"

"Aye," Killian answered, a look of confusion on his face. "So it was."

"We used it to create a portal to come back here," she said, becoming more and more animated as the wonderful possibility took shape. "If we took some water back with us to the Enchanted Forest, we could create another portal and go back to the Land Without Magic with Henry. Don't you see? He wouldn't be yanked away from us! He wouldn't be sent back alone!"

Killian had an inscrutable look on his face, and Emma's smile began to falter.

"That is…" Emma stuttered, dropping her eyes, "if you want to return with us. I know your father's here, and the Enchanted Forest is your home and everything. I'd understand if you didn't want to leave."

He gently tipped her chin so that he could look in her eyes. "You're my family, love," he said in a voice gravelly with emotion. "You're my home. A life worlds away from you wouldn't be any kind of life at all. Of course I'll return with you and your lad."

She surged forward and wrapped him in a hug so tight, she wondered if he could breathe. "Thank you!" she said.

"And at any rate," Killian muttered into her hair as his arms came to wrap around her as well. "With the prevalence of Camelot water, all manner of possibilities open up to us. We'll be able to travel between realms with ease…Certainly with more ease than travelling within the Land Without Magic. Lass, have you ever heard of a contraption called an airplane? When I was looking for you, I spent some time searching for a means of travel from one city to another. A man suggested I go by airplane, which apparently is a steel vessel that flies in the _air_!"

Emma laughed. "Killian, I'll get you on an airplane yet!"

"I wouldn't make any wagers on that, love."

Emma laughed again. The look on his face was so skeptical, so wary, she couldn't help herself.

"But of course," King Arthur cut in. Emma had rather forgotten he was even in the room. Everyone else just seemed to fade away when she and her pirate were together. "Of course you may have all the Camelot water you wish. Shall we head to the spring?"

"I think we ought to put that off for a while," Regina said. "For all we know there's still a battle raging out there. "Who knows how everything's working out for the knights and the merry men and the Storybrooke gang."

Emma felt a compunction of conscience. She'd completely forgotten everyone else! She'd been celebrating when her friends might be in desperate trouble.

"The Table's power is restored, and my knights are once again united," Arthur said confidently, "I've no doubt they shall win the day, but if you would like to ascertain their state for yourself, by all means. My queen and I shall await you at the spring."

"Well, milady?" Killian asked, presenting her his hand, "shall we head off to the next battle?"

She placed her hand in his. "As you wish," she said.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Rumplestiltskin aimed a shot of magic at the man before him. "Look at me like that again, dearie," he sneered, "and I'll gut you like a fish!"

The man gave a startled yelp.

"No need for nastiness, Gold," Emma said with a smile. "We've already won. They can't bother us anymore."

"But I excel at nastiness, Miss Swan," Rumple said with a cackle.

"Truer words were never spoken," Killian said under his breath.

Emma smiled up at him. There was a feeling of general merriment among the group. Emma, Killian, Regina and Robin had set out from the castle tensed for battle, ready for anything they might encounter. What they found were group after group of their friends and allies celebrating victory.

The battles throughout Camelot had been intense, the combatants quite equally matched. The turning point came when the Table was repaired and the magic that protected Camelot was finally restored. Once that had taken place, Morgana's soldiers faltered and then surrendered in short order.

Emma looked out over their motley group. They sported cuts and bruises, battle scars as it were, but no one had sustained any serious injury. It was miraculous, really how well they had fared. They were halfway through their quest to rid Fairytale land of the evilest bitches it had ever known—and that was saying something when you considered some of the women who had resided in Fairytale land in the past!

The trees gradually thinned and then stopped completely, and the group found itself stepping onto the cobblestone path leading to the town square. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere stood by the magnificent well waiting for both victors and vanquished. It appeared the royal couple had made good use of their time. They were clean, well-groomed and decked in their most regal finery. Emma thought they made rather a striking couple.

As soon as the town square came into view, Sir Lancelot broke from the group and rushed to King Arthur's side. Dropping to one knee and bowing his head subserviently he said "I renew my pledge of fealty to you, my liege. I swear to do all within my power to protect Camelot from all attackers, and I offer my sword and my lance to your service."

Arthur stepped forward, and brought the knight to his feet. "It is I who should be bowing before you, Lancelot," Arthur said with tears in his eyes. "I misjudged you. I trusted the honeyed tongue of a viper rather that the word of my best friend and most devoted warrior. For that, I ask your pardon."

"I wouldn't beat myself up over it, Your Majesty," Emma said with a grimace. "The bitch was a master manipulator. She could have fooled anyone."

"Be that as it may," King Arthur said, "I failed most grievously in my duty as king. I put my trust in one far from worthy of it, and for that I must ask pardon."

Sir Lancelot smiled. "For my part, Your Majesty, I grant it most willingly."

Lancelot turned toward Guinevere. "And I must in turn ask pardon of my queen," he said. "I failed most miserably in my duty to defend you and protect you from harm. You have suffered much at the hands of Morgana Le Fay; harm which I could have prevented had I seen through her machinations more quickly."

Guinevere smiled serenely. "My pardon is granted," she said gently, "and I beg you to take the lady of the prophecy's words to heart. None of the victors here present can be blamed for the evil that descended upon Camelot. That lies at Morgana's feet and at her feet alone."

Sir Lancelot nodded and stepped back. King Arthur stepped forward, holding an elaborately decorated jar before him. It was large, appearing able to hold two or three gallons of liquid.

"I would ask that the knight and lady of prophecy step forward," Arthur said firmly.

Emma grasped Killian's hand, and the pair stepped up before the king and queen. Arthur dipped the jar into the well, full to the brim with clear pure water, and then presented the container to Killian.

"No thanks could ever be sufficient to convey my gratitude and that of all of Camelot's residents," Arthur said formally, "but I beg you to accept this small token."

Killian bowed with equal formality and accepted the jar in his good hand. "My lady and I accept with pleasure, Your Majesty. It was an honor to be of service to you and your fair land."

"Be assured good sir and fair lady," Queen Guinevere said, "of the good will of Camelot. Should you ever find yourself in need, do not hesitate to call upon us."

Emma smiled warmly. "Thank—"

The well exploded with an earth-shaking boom. Water and masonry flew in every direction. Killian reacted instinctively. Grabbing Emma, he dropped to the ground behind a stone bench, shielding her with his body, hiding the pitcher of precious Camelot water behind a nearby tree. Chaos reigned. Screams and cries cleaved the air. Killian heard the thunder of booted feet as people tried frantically to get out of the line of fire—panicked because they had no idea where said fire was originating.

And then Killian saw it. A billow of white smoke appeared just to the left of the demolished well. Dread filled him. This could mean but one thing.

Slowly the smoke cleared, and Killian's worst fears were realized. Morgana Le Fay, herself, wearing an elaborately brocaded black dress materialized. The look on her beautiful face could only be described as demented.

Morgana turned on the spot, her hands outstretched before her, and a large bubble followed the trail of her fingers. As Killian watched, the bubble formed a kind of dome surrounding him, Emma and the bloody witch. Whatever she meant to do to them, she clearly wished for no outside interference.

She laughed, the sound high and manic. "You thought you could defeat me?" she bellowed, "Me? The mistress of all evil?"

"What is it with villains and dramatic declarations," Emma asked under her breath, her eyes rolling. Killian barked out a laugh.

"Oh you find me funny, do you knight?" Morgana asked angrily. "Come out and face me. You and your harridan of a lady, and then we shall see who is left laughing."

Killian rolled off of Emma and prepared to get to his feet, but she stopped him with an insistent hand to his arm.

"No, Killian," she said intently. "I need to be the one to fight her. My magic will be a hell of a lot more effective than your sword."

Killian frowned down at her, a stubborn glint in his eyes. "Emma love," he said under his breath, "if you think I will let the woman I love fight the most formidable foe either of us has ever faced while I cower behind a bench like the most contemptible coward, you have clearly lost the use of your senses!"

She growled in frustration. "But Killian," she hissed, "it's magic that will defeat her. I have magic; it has to be me."

"Nay lass," he countered, "it is not magic, but everlasting love and sacrifice that will defeat this witch. It must be us, both of us together. Argument is vain. I _will_ fight at your side say whatever you will."

"Fine." She punched out the word like it was an expletive. "But if you take risks and allow her to hurt you, I'll kill you myself!"

He grinned; it was his old pirate grin. "Likewise, darling."

"Do the formidable knight and his beautiful lady lack the courage to fight me?" Morgana taunted. "Come out and fight, or I will drag you out myself!"

"Ready?" Killian asked?  
"Let's do it," Emma answered.

He gave her a quick, hard kiss and then helped her to her feet.

Killian felt an unnatural calm descend on him. They were nearing the end. He knew. He _knew_ they would be successful. He moved forward, away from the shelter of the bench.

Morgana shot a spell in their direction immediately. Killian pulled his sword from its sheath and pointed the flat of it toward the spell that was heading their way. He couldn't have explained what made him do it. It was as though someone or something above and beyond him was directing his actions.

Despite the fact that the cold steel of a sword should have had no effect on a magical curse, Killian's weapon did its job. With a swipe, Killian sent the curse flying in the opposite direction, and it fell harmlessly to the ground.

"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to give us a big long-winded soliloquy about your evil plan and why you did it and everything?" Emma asked sarcastically.

Killian bit back a laugh. It was no wonder he loved this woman. She was strong as any ten men; she showed not a hint of fear.

"Evil plan?" Morgana sneered. "What a fool you are. There is no good or evil. There are merely ways of accomplishing one's goals. Mine are particularly effective."

"You're wrong," Killian countered, desperate to get the sorceress' attention back on him and off of Emma. "You have lost, pet. You might want to give up."

She laughed, a high, maniacal cackle. "Never! I'll never give up. You will never defeat-"

Emma shot a spell, and it hit Morgana squarely in the chest. Her mouth formed an "o" as she gasped for breath, but a moment later she regained her composure.

"It appears the kitten has claws," she purred maliciously, "but no matter. I'll still get my way in the end. Do you remember what I promised you, Captain? About the treatment your girlie would receive if she dared return to Camelot. Oh, I'm going to enjoy torturing her; it will be delicious."

"Bring it," Emma yelled, throwing another spell at Morgana. Prepared this time, the sorceress easily deflected it, and then turned on them with deadly speed. Two curses flew from her hands before Killian even had a moment to blink. He deflected his with his sword, and then turned to Emma. He saw her dive out of the way just as the curse whizzed past her and shattered the bench they had been previously hiding behind.

"How did you escape Emma's encapsulation spell?" Killian asked, desperate to keep Morgana talking. If he could keep her distracted, perhaps Emma would have time to marshal enough magic to defeat her.

"That weak excuse for a spell?" Morgana said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Even with the precious talismans, your darling Emma only had strength enough to keep me captive while she was within the castle. As soon as you passed through the great hall doors, I was free."

Emma closed her eyes; Killian could tell she was concentrating with all her might. Two balls of fire that would have made Regina proud shot from her hands and connected with Morgana. Immediately her dress went up in flames.

With a muttered curse, Morgana turned her hands toward her own body, and jets of water shot out, extinguishing the fire.

"You'll pay for that!" Morgana shouted. "That was my best dress!"

Which now hung in tatters from her body.

"Maybe next time you'll dress more appropriately for the occasion," Emma sneered. "Oh wait. There won't be a next time for you."

Emma shot another spell, and Morgana deflected it. The battle went on for some time, Morgana sending curses their way, Emma sending counter spells, and Killian trying desperately to get close enough to the bloody witch that his sword would be of use.

Things were becoming dire. Killian saw Emma's strength begin to fade. She was becoming tired. Every second it seemed to take more effort to produce her spells. Meanwhile, Morgana only seemed to be gaining in strength. It was as though she was feeding on Emma's exhaustion. Killian had to do something, and he had to do it fast.

"How do we defeat her?" He muttered under his breath.

_Go to Emma_, Killian heard in his mind. _You defeat her together; use the talismans._

Killian leapt out of the way of another of Morgana's curses and ran to Emma. She shot him a questioning look.

"Together, love," he said. "We can only defeat her together. Use the talismans."

Emma gave a terse nod as Killian wrapped his hook arm around her. She reached into the pocket of her red leather jacket and pulled out the still combined cross and circle. She held it out before them just as Morgana shot forth another spell, one so mighty it required the use of both hands.

Killian felt the bonds holding him and his lass together strengthen, grow. It was though some sort of barrier existed around them, keeping them from harm. This was it; this was their moment. He could feel the hum of Emma's magic, the warmth of their shared love, and the resolve of his willingness to make any sacrifice to protect her.

Morgana's spell reached them. Killian hit it with his sword just as Emma beamed the talismans' light upon it. The curse rebounded, and slammed into Morgana. There was a tremendous explosion, and when the smoke cleared a fine, black dust was all that remained of the most evil sorceress Camelot had ever seen. The dust fell to the ground and covered the place where the Camelot well had stood.

For long moments there was silence. No one moved a muscle. Killian stood ready, his sword still raised protectively. If Morgana rose from the ashes, what then?

But she didn't.

Gradually Killian became aware of the shouts and cheers surrounding them. Morgana's barrier disappeared and their friends and neighbors poured forward, nearly smothering Emma and him with hugs and backslaps.

"Is it over?" Emma yelled above the joyful din. "Is she really gone?"

"Aye, dearie," answered Rumplestiltskin, who was, if it can be believed, so overcome with delight that he actually shook Killian's hand. "Her protection spell disappeared. That could only happen if she was well and truly dead."

It was over! It was truly over! Killian took Emma in his arms and gave her a kiss that had Ruby wolf-whistling and led Regina to sarcastically suggest they get a room.

_Notes__:_

_-One evil villainess down (and yes, Morgana is _really_ dead this time!), one to go. Incidentally, I had Morgana quote a classic Disney fairy tale villainess. Did you catch that?_

_-Up next: Killian, Emma and the gang head back to the Enchanted Forest and find that things have gone downhill _very_ quickly. When the witch discovered _all_ her semi-captives escaped, and later when she learned of Morgana's downfall…well, let's just say she wasn't pleased. If Emma ever wants to see her parents…or her son…alive again, she better hurry back and find a way to destroy evil villainess #2 ASAP._


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

_Camelot, Arthur's and Guinevere's castle_

Emma paced her chamber, her nerves strung as tightly as a piano wire. The soft cotton of her borrowed night shift billowed out behind her as she paced from the door to the window and back again. Would this night ever end? How could she stand to wait until the sun came up when her parents and her son were in such mortal danger?

Finally, deciding she would go crazy pacing on her own, she threw a satin dressing gown on and headed out the door. The hallway was softly lit by the flickering light of several wall sconces. She walked purposefully to the door at the end of the hall, hesitated for a mere moment, and then knocked.

Emma heard soft rustlings, the sound of feet moving forward on soft rushes. Killian was throwing his blowsy black shirt over his head as he opened the door. His look of confusion soon turned to concern as he took in her face.

"Lass?" he asked gently.

The tears came to her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His arms closed around her, warm and comforting. He gently stroked her hair, gentling her as he would a nervous filly.

"What is it Emma?" he asked softly, his lips mere inches from her ear.

"I can't stand this waiting," Emma said, her voice breaking on the last word. "This is torture. She's going to kill them, Killian! Tomorrow! I can't lose my parents; I can't! And Henry? He's just a child. I can't even imagine what it would do to me if…" Nor could she bring herself to finish the sentence.

"Sh," Killian said softly. "No harm will come to the prince or the princess…or your lad. We will be in time. We will rescue them."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked, pulling away just far enough to see face.

"Because the bloody witch went a step too far this time, love," he said with a grim smile. "Kidnapping your parents was one thing. Kidnapping your son, who has Regina for a mother, is another. Kidnapping the Crocodile's woman is bloody madness. He'll raze the entirety of the Enchanted Forest before he allows the witch to harm a hair on Belle's head."

"I hope you're right, Killian!" Emma said, stepping back into the safe haven of his arms.

"Haven't you learned yet, darling that I'm always right?"

She smiled weakly and swatted his arm.

"Come with me, love," he coaxed stepping back into his room, leaving the door conspicuously open. "You'll need your rest to prepare for tomorrow."

Emma shot him a surprised look. Did he mean to take her to his _bed_? But he didn't; he headed in the opposite direction toward the fainting couch sitting before the fire. He sat upon it and patted the spot next to him with the leather brace that sported his hook during the day. Emma took the invitation, and leaned back in his arms.

Killian caressed her arm, long, slow gentle strokes. She felt his lips against her hair as he kissed her gently. Despite her fears, Emma felt herself beginning to relax.

"I don't remember much about my mother," Killian said softly, "but I have one distinct memory."

"What's that?" Emma asked curiously.

"One night, I was just a wee lad at the time, I woke in the night from a terrible nightmare. I called out, afraid to even step from my bed lest some beast grab my ankle as soon as it touched the ground. My mother came in, tucked me back into bed, and sang to me until I fell asleep."

Emma smiled up at him. "That's a great memory."

"Aye," he smiled back. "Well do I remember that one solitary little lullaby. Shall I sing it for you now, lass?"

She nodded, and he slowly began singing. The simple, haunting melody soothed her, and as her fears slowly receded, she thought back over the events of the day.

As soon as it had sunk in that Morgana was really and truly gone, Arthur had invited everyone back to his castle for the night. Emma and Killian had been led to the two most luxurious guest chambers and assigned servants to see to their needs. Emma's maid, a perky little red-head named Bridget chattered on merrily as she chose a dress, laid a fire, and called for serving boys to fill the large, wooden tub near the fire.

In short order, Emma found herself relieved of her clothes—it really was awkward having a servant try to _undress _you!—and soaking in a tub full of warm, lavender scented water. It was heavenly. As the adrenaline of the battle wore off, Emma became more and more aware of the small cuts, bruises, and sore muscles she had suffered. And the cut on her arm from the earlier battle was shallow, but hurt like hell. The water soothed her battered body, and she luxuriated in it for long minutes. It was only when the water began to cool that Emma soaped her body and hair and then rinsed off.

As Emma stepped from the bath, Bridget was there with a soft towel and enough chatter to make Emma's head hurt. Why couldn't she have been given a mute for a servant? While keeping up a steady monologue, Bridget dressed Emma in a green gown that would have fit in perfectly at a Renaissance fair. It was pretty enough, Emma supposed, but it wasn't her style…to say the least.

She tried to suggest Bridget bring back her own comfortable clothing…jeans, tank top, red jacket, but the contrary woman would have none of it.

"Sure and you can't mean that my lady," Bridget said in a shocked voice. "The king is to hold a majestic feast tonight, and you must be dressed appropriately."

"But…" Emma tried as Bridget gently pushed her before the fire and began brushing her hair.

"Not a bit of it my lady," Bridget said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "Tomorrow you may return to your unusual choice of clothing. Tonight you play the role of a real lady."

Emma decided argument was most likely futile, so she sat back, and let the loquacious maid brush her hair until it dried. The woman went on to twist and braid and tease Emma's golden locks into an intricate style that would make any medieval noble woman proud.

The feast had been…interesting, Emma would give it that. It was a medieval feast with all the pomp and splendor that evidently accompanied such occasions. Emma had been seated with Killian at the head table on the dais, the king and queen on her right.

Emma felt kind of like a fish out of water as all the standard procedures were followed. Killian grinned wickedly at her as he explained each ritual as it progressed. She couldn't really blame him. After all, he'd spent more than a little time lost and confused in the Land Without Magic. It must be nice to be back in familiar surroundings. From the surveyor of the hall presenting her with the salt cellar, to the pantler presenting Killian with the upper crust, to the laverer presenting them all with water in which to wash their hands, to the cup bearer performing the credence test by placing a bezoar in a glass of wine, the whole thing was incomprehensible to Emma.

"It's to check for the presence of poison, love," Killian had whispered as the credence test progressed. "Would be rather bad form to let the king be poisoned at his own table, aye?"

Once all the beginning-of-the-feast protocols had been observed the feast actually progressed rather pleasantly for Emma. The food was good and plentiful, and the company was certainly enjoyable. By the time the food was cleared away and a large, bad tempered minstrel and his adorable little boy began the evening's entertainment Emma was finally beginning to relax and enjoy herself.

And then it happened. Emma's whole world was once more turned upside down with the arrival of a single uninvited guest. Emma heard a disturbance at the great hall door, and a moment later, a flying monkey swooped into the great hall and landed right before the dais. Emma reached for her cutlass, only to belatedly remember she'd left it in her sleeping chamber.

"Guards!" Arthur shouted, getting to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Your Majesty," the monkey said bowing low to the ground. "I beg your indulgence. I have urgent news for Miss Swan and her captain. I'm afraid it can't wait another moment!"

_Cedric_. Emma recognized those slightly snooty tones. What was he _doing _here…and was that dried_ blood_ on his head?

The guards advanced and chased the winged monkey who continually danced out of their clutches.

"Hold on," Emma said firmly, a deep foreboding in the pit of her stomach. "Your Majesty. He's a friend. Let him speak."

Arthur gave her a questioning look, shrugged and then ordered his guards to fall back.

"What is it Cedric?" She asked. "Is something wrong in the Enchanted Forest?"

"Yes, my lady," Cedric said grimly, turning to face her. "The Wicked Witch has learned of Morgana's defeat. She marched on Rumplestiltskin's castle to determine if you lot had anything to do with it."

"But no one was there," Emma breathed.

"Precisely," Cedric agreed. "She flew into a towering rage, breathing threats and murder to anyone who would listen. And then…"

"Aye?" Killian asked impatiently, "and then what?"

"She noticed your secret path, the one leading to Robin Hood's cottage."

"Oh my God, Henry!" Emma said.

"Quite so, my lady," Cedric said grimly. "The witch attacked the cottage with an entire battalion of monkeys loyal to her. Your boy and the old woman fought valiantly, but in the end Henry and Belle were taken."

"No!" Emma shrieked, getting to her feet.

"What of my lad?" Robin asked quickly from a nearby table. "Was he taken as well?"

"No, fine sir," Cedric answered. "The old lady managed to spirit him away to safety, just in time, I might add."

Emma felt faint. Her son! She couldn't lose her son, not after everything that had happened!

"So the witch has imprisoned them?" Emma asked in a voice filled with dread.

"I fear it is far worse than that, my lady," Cedric said with a shake of his head.

"What?" Killian asked with intensity. "What has she done?"

"She plans to make examples of them," Cedric said. "They, along with Snow White and Prince Charming, are to be executed in the public square tomorrow at sundown."

Emma cursed fluently and got to her feet. Threaten to killer her parents and her son, did she? The bitch had no idea who she was messing with! Emma would take her out with her bare hands!

"Be still love," Killian said, putting a hand on her arm. "We can't just head out willy nilly."

Emma savagely pulled away, intending to march back to her room, get out of these ridiculous clothes, gather her weapons and go take down a witch.

"Killian, she's going to kill my parents and my son!" Emma said furiously. "And you want to me to stay and finish a feast? The hell I will!"

"Be reasonable, Emma," Killian said in frustration. "We can't leave now. We wouldn't stand a chance crossing No Man's Land in the dark. And you propose to fight the bloody witch in your present state of exhaustion?"

"But…"

"Sadly, I must agree with the pirate once again," Rumplestiltskin said grimly. Emma hadn't noticed when he'd come to join them at the head table.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Emma fumed. "She's got Belle. You remember her? Your true love?"

"I'm well aware of that, dearie," Rumple said in irritation, "and she will pay dearly, but we will do our loved ones no favors by getting lost in No Man's Land."

Panic clawed at Emma. Her son was in trouble in the Enchanted Forest. How could she stay here in Camelot? No! It was asking too much.

Killian put a gentle hand beneath her chin and tipped it up until her eyes were focused on his. "We will save them, love," he said firmly. "I swear on my life that I will not let anything happen to them. I need you to trust me."

She looked up at him for several moments, and gradually the panic receded. This man had proven himself trustworthy over and over again. There was nothing the two of them together couldn't accomplish.

"Okay," she said tremulously, never breaking eye contact. "But Killian, we start for the Enchanted Forest at the crack of dawn."

"Not a moment later, love."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

They started off the next morning just as the first light began painting the sky in pinks and purples. Arthur, Guinevere and the Knights of the Round Table came to see them off.

"Ah, Buttercup," her foster father said, tears in his eyes, "I dearly wish I could help you fight this battle."  
"It's alright, Dad," Emma said, emotion beginning to thicken her voice. A part of her couldn't wait to get started on their journey, but another part of her never wanted to go. The well of Camelot was completely destroyed, the magical stream dried up. Likely when she went back to the Land Without Magic, she would never be able to return here. This parting with her dad wasn't goodbye for now; it was goodbye forever.

"It isn't really," Galahad said in a tortured voice. "There is nothing a father wants to do more than help his children, but it simply can't be."

"I get it Dad," she said with a wave of her hand. "Camelot needs you. It's protected as long as all the Knights are here, and after all the crap that's gone down lately, Camelot needs the stability."

Galahad stepped forward and wrapped Emma in his arms. She clung to him, inhaling his familiar scent. Life was utterly unfair sometimes. After so many years thinking this man had abandoned her, she'd finally found him again…only to have to let him go once more.

Emma finally stepped back from the embrace, and turned to go, but Galahad stopped her with a roughened hand to her arm.

"When you get back there," he said in a thick voice, "promise me something."

"Anything I can, dad," Emma said, letting the tears slip down her face.

"Find my Rose, and my lad Tommy. Tell them what happened to me. Tell them how much I love them…how I think about them, miss them every single day."

"Okay," Emma said, giving the man one last hug before turning away.

Emma scanned the crowd, looking for her pirate. She saw him off by himself with Sir Gawain, his father. The men hugged tightly, and Emma saw Killian surreptitiously wipe his eyes as he turned away back to the group. Her heart went out to him. Here was yet another grief that they could share.

He reached her side, and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him for a long moment, no words necessary between them. Finally he pulled away slightly, still keeping an arm around her waist.

"Ready, lass?" he said firmly.

"Absolutely," she answered grimly. "Let's go kill a witch!"

The walk through No-Man's-Land was made in grim silence, the large group seemingly so intent on their mission that words were neither necessary nor desirable. Finally, as they moved ever closer to the center of the Enchanted Forest where the palace was, it occurred to Emma, they'd best make a plan.

"Cedric," she said, catching up to the monkey somewhere in the middle of the group.

"Yes, my lady," he asked with a bow.

"Any ideas how we might actually do it?" She asked.

"Do what, Madam?"

"Defeat the witch, kill her, demolish her, whatever," Emma said.

Cedric grinned.

"As luck would have it," he said, "I know exactly how that objective might be accomplished."

"How?" Killian asked eagerly. She hadn't heard him step up behind her.

"Camelot water," Cedric said simply.

"Camelot water?" Emma asked.

"Yes," Cedric said nodding eagerly. "It's the very reason I find myself in this state. I heard a rumor that the witch—she went by the name of Black, then—could not bear the feel of Camelot water on her skin."

"Likely due to the wickedness in her very soul," Killian muttered.

"Just so, sir," Cedric agreed. "I decided to try out the theory. I obtained a jar of the precious liquid, sat in wait for the witch along the main road of Camelot, and threw the lot at her as she passed by."

"What happened?" Emma asked curiously.

"She jumped out of the way just in time," Cedric said, "but three drops of the liquid landed on her hand. A huge burn immediately appeared, as though the droplets had been live embers. In her anger, she transformed me into my present state."

"Thanks, Cedric," Emma said, patting the monkey on the shoulder, "you've been really helpful."

The group continued on, but suddenly a thought occurred to Emma, a thought that threatened to steal the very breath from her lungs.

"Love?" Killian asked quietly. "What's amiss?"

"Killian," she said, pain radiating from her eyes. "The Camelot water."

"Aye," he said, holding up the container, "it's here. We've more than enough to defeat the witch."

"But…" Emma said in an anguished voice. "Henry."

Killian waited, his brows furrowed in obvious confusion.

"We were going to use the water to get Henry back to the Land Without Magic."

She saw understanding dawn in his handsome eyes.

"But if we use the water to defeat the witch, we'll be left once again with no way to create a portal," he said.

"Yeah," she said. "What are we going to do?"

He thought for a moment and then nodded firmly. "There's really only one thing to do, lass. We must defeat the witch. Henry's life depends on it."

"But what about his danger when the potion wears off?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we reach it," he said confidently. "But I know this. There is nothing you and I together cannot accomplish."

And there it was. By all appearances it was hopeless, but despair was the farthest thing from Emma's mind. Killian gave her hope, and it was hope that would lead to their happy ending—a happy ending that would _include_ Henry.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

They finished the journey in record time. It was still some hours before noon when the Enchanted Forest palace came into view. Killian heard Emma's anguished cry at the sight. Turning his head in that direction, he couldn't stop the curse that flew from his lips. The witch and her monkeys had been busy. They'd built a gallows complete with four nooses in the very center of the town square.

"I'll kill her!" Emma ground out. "No one threatens my family!"

Killian held the jug of Camelot water firmly. This ended today. The green witch's reign of terror ended today!

"Not if I kill her first, dearie," Rumple said with a cackle.

"You both need to stand back" Regina sneered, "the bitch is mine!"

Rumple and Regina began walking forward, guns blazing, as it were, but Emma stopped them.

"Wait!" she insisted.

"What, Miss Swan?" Regina asked in frustration. "Every moment we waste is a moment closer to my son's death."

"But we can't just charge in there!" Emma said in exasperation. "We need a plan."

"What do you suggest, dearie?" Rumple asked with a sneer of his own, "we ask her nicely to release our loved ones?"

"No," Emma said, dragging a hand through her blonde hair. "I just think we should use a little strategy rather than go off with some half-assed plan."

"If I might make a suggestion?" Robin said, stepping into the fray.

"Please," Emma answered.

"Regina and I know full well how difficult and dangerous it is to break into the castle," he said, "and in order to be successful, you will need the monkeys to be distracted as much as possible."

"What do you suggest, Robin?" Regina asked softly.

"Regina, love," he answered. "You accompany Emma, Hook and Rumple into the castle. You know the layout of the castle better than anyone, and will be able to lead them to the witch before she's even aware of your presence."

"What about the distraction?"

"That's where the rest of us come in," Robin grinned. "I believe our first order of business is to destroy yon gallows. They most certainly won't be needed today, and the commotion of removing them is sure to draw the ire of the witch's minions."

Killian nodded firmly. "I like it," he said. "It has as much chance of succeeding as anything."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

The door to the secret passageway exploded, and Killian rolled his eyes. Clearly the Crocodile was not one for subtlety.

"Well, I could have done that!" Regina groused. "I thought the point was for us to enter in _secrecy_."

"Secrecy is not my thing, dearie," Rumple said with a wave of his hand. "I prefer to make my presence known. I cower before no man or woman."

"Yeah," Regina said nastily, "that's just great…when 'making your presence known' might just get my son and your lover killed!"

"No one threatens my Belle!" Rumple said angrily.

Emma stepped between them and started up the dark staircase. "Well, you two can stand out here and argue about who makes the best villain entrance all you want, but I'm heading up to do what we actually came here to do…you know, destroy the bitch who's threatening our loved ones?"

Killian followed behind her, a grin draping his face.

After their not-so-subtle entrance, it was no surprise when they opened the door to the nursery to find a room full of angry flying monkeys. Killian transferred the jug of Camelot water to his hook and drew his sword. With a feral growl, he stepped out, sword already swinging. Within moments Emma, Regina and Gold had joined the fray.

The battle was intense, but short. Even a room full of evil monkeys was no match for an evil queen, a sorcerer, a pirate and a savior. Within five minutes, all that was left of their foes was a room full of carcasses.

Emma wiped off her bloody cutlass and replaced it in its scabbard. "Let's go!" she called, stepping over a monkey and through the nursery door.

"Where?" Rumple asked. "Do you happen to have any idea where we can find the witch, dearie?"

"She found us last time," Regina said.

There was a commotion, the sound of running feet and flapping wings. Angry monkey shrieks cleaved the air. They seemed to be moving away.

"Looks like they noticed the demolition party," Emma said dryly.

"So that takes care of the monkeys," Regina said, "but it doesn't get us any closer to the witch. Maybe we should split up and search."

Emma paced for several moments, her head down, her brow furrowed. "No," she said decisively, "When we find her, we need all our skills. You talked about what great powers she has. We can't risk her overpowering us."

"What do you suggest love," Killian asked, periodically scanning the chamber looking for assailants.

"The dungeon," Emma said. "We may not know where the witch is, but we know where she keeps her prisoners, thanks to the information Ruby gave us. We go down, free everybody, get them to safety, and then wait for the witch to come after us."

"It's as good a plan as any," Regina shrugged.

"It's a bloody brilliant plan," Killian beamed, stooping to give her a swift kiss. "Don't worry lass, we'll prevail. I won't let anything happen to you or your family."

"Ugh," Regina groused, shooting a disgusted look Rumple's way. "Somebody just kill me now and save me from these two!"

Ten minutes later they made it to the dungeons.

"Henry!" Emma shouted, running from empty cell to empty cell. "Kid, where are you?"

"Mom!" The call came from the end of the hallway, and Killian broke into a sprint in that direction.

"Emma?" came the call from an adjacent cell. _Charming. _

In short order everyone was accounted for. All four were being housed in a line of dreary cells in the very heart of the dungeon.

"Mom," Henry was calling again, his hands sticking out of the bars, one holding each of his mothers' hands. "I was afraid something happened to you. I was afraid you wouldn't get here in time."

"Don't worry, Henry," Regina soothed. "We won't let anything happen to you."

"That's right, kid," Emma said with a smile. "Hold on a second, we'll get you out before the witch gets back."

"Emma, watch out!" Snow called.

Killian turned around in time to see the black smoke clearing and the Wicked Witch of the West emerging. She raised a wand, and pointed it directly at Emma's heart. He moved instinctively. Diving to the side, he tackled Emma, pulling her out of the way just as the witch's first spell hit the stone floor where Emma had been standing.

Rumple shot a curse at the witch while Regina cast a protective spell over the four captives.

"This ends now, bitch!" Emma screamed, getting back to her feet. "Surrender, or I swear we will destroy you."

The witch laughed. "Destroy me, will you? I'd like to see you try."

Killian drew his sword and lunged for the witch; she disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared on the other side of the dungeon.

"Swords," the witch said derisively, "so primitive. Run away knight, your little toys will have no effect on me."

"Yeah?" Emma said, raising both hands before her. "Well, how about this?"

A bright flash of light flew from the lass's hands and bound the witch as though with a rope. The woman struggled for a moment, and then broke free. She raised her hand for another strike, but Rumple countered it.

"We've got to get her immobilized or at least distracted," Killian whispered to Regina while the Crocodile and Emma continued shooting spells at the witch. "We've got to keep her still long enough for Emma and me to douse her with the water."

"Leave that to me," Regina said with her evil queen grin. "No one kidnaps my son!"

Regina moved forward, and Killian pulled Emma out of the line of fire. Regina and Rumple circled the witch, fire and lights rushing from their outstretched hands. The witch gave as good as she got.

Raising her wand, the witch muttered an incantation, and a spell shot from the tip like a bullet shooting from a gun. It hit Rumple squarely on the chest, and he crumpled to the ground, insensible.

"Rumple!" Belle shouted from her cell.

White beams of light shot from Regina's fingers and enveloped the witch.

"Get to it guys," she yelled over her shoulder. "I can't hold her much longer!"

"Shall we, love?" Killian asked, holding the jug of water out to Emma.

"Let's go!" she agreed pulling out the stopper.

With a battle cry, the pirate and his lady ran forward, and poured every last drop of Camelot water over the Wicked Witch's head. She screamed and writhed in agony.

"I'm melting, melting!" she shrieked as she slowly disappeared from view. It was over in less than a minute. Her screams gradually died away, and then there was nothing left of the Wicked Witch of the West but her stolen clothes.

_Notes_

_-And so, both evil villainesses are finally disposed of! Now there remains only one hurdle to everyone getting their happy ending. They have to find a way to keep Henry from getting yanked away from them._

_-Up next: Regina knows of a way to create a portal back to the Land Without Magic, but it will require magic, and as we all know, all magic comes with a price. In this case, the price is steep. If you read my Christmas story, you've likely already guessed just what that price will be._

_-Just a friendly reminder: Episode 3x12 premieres in 2 weeks! Yay!_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

_Enchanted Forest, the palace_

For a moment no one moved, it seemed no one even breathed, and then there was a flurry of hectic activity. Emma and Regina moved toward the cells and freed the four prisoners. Belle ran to the Crocodile, who was beginning to stir where he'd fallen. Henry ran to Emma and then Regina, hugging them as though his very life depended on it. Considering how close the lad had come to losing his life that day, it was no wonder.

Then Emma turned toward Snow and Charming.

"Mom, Dad?" she said, her voice shaking with emotion. They moved together as one, Snow's arms enfolding her daughter and Charming's enfolding them both.

"You found us!" Snow said through her tears.

"Did you ever doubt I would?" Emma asked, stepping from the embrace and wiping at her own tears.

Killian stepped back; he felt like an intruder. This was a family reunion, an intimate moment where outsiders were neither noticed or welcomed. Then Emma's eyes scanned the dungeon, and came to rest on him. She beckoned him with one slim hand. He shook his head and took another step back.

"I don't wish to intrude upon your reunion, love. This is a family affair."

She rolled her eyes. "Stop being an idiot and get over here!"

Charming stepped away from his ladies and stopped before Killian, extending his hand. Killian shook the outstretched appendage, and then felt Charming pull him forward into a hug, right hands clasped and left hand…and hook…patting each other on the shoulder.

"Hook," Charming said as he stepped away. "After all you've done for Emma and our whole family, I'd say you _are _family!"

A warmth spread from Killian's chest to suffuse his whole body. How long had it been since someone…anyone had made him feel like he belonged? He looked up and met Emma's eyes. A gentle smile spread over her lips, and she beckoned him once more. This time he complied with alacrity.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

The first thing Emma noticed when they all emerged from the dungeons was the utter lack of flying monkeys. There didn't seem to be a single one of the creatures anywhere on the palace grounds. Had they all flown away as soon as the witch melted?

A rather bookish looking old man wearing wire rimmed glasses stepped toward her.

"You were successful, than Miss Swan?" he asked with a deferential bow. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place the man.

"Uh, yeah," she said with a furrowed brow. "Ding dong the witch is dead, and all of that."

"Excellent!" the man said with a smile. "I knew you would save us. You and your gallant knight, of course."

Killian stepped up beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. She looked up at him questioningly, and he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Emma said, once again addressing the little man before her, "but do I know you?"

He smiled then. "I look quite different, do I not?" the man asked, spreading his arms wide as though inviting their perusal. Abruptly he made an elegant bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. Cedric, professor emeritus of English Literature at Camelot University."

"Cedric!" Emma said, finally placing the voice. "You're human again! How did that happen?"

"It would appear that when the witch met her demise all of her enchantments ended as well."

Emma took another good look around. This time she noticed several unfamiliar men and women. Some lay dead or wounded on the ground, others held at sword, knife or bow and arrow point by various groups of merry men and Enchanted Forest residents.

It finally started to wash over her. It had seemed almost unreal at first. _They'd done it_! They'd managed to defeat both Morgana Le Fay and the Wicked Witch of the West! She felt elated in a way she hadn't since she broke the first curse and brought Henry back from the poisoned apple turnover induced coma.

_Henry_! It hit her again. Her son was about to be ripped away from her yet again…only this time there was no magic bean, no vial of Camelot water, no magical portal-creating object at their disposal. If Henry was transported back to the Land Without Magic, how would she ever get him back?

"Master Henry!" Cedric said delightedly. Emma looked over her shoulder to see her son making his way toward her. "It's so good to see you free and unharmed!"

"Cedric!" Henry called, giving the old man an enthusiastic hug. Apparently the fact that Cedric was no longer a monkey didn't fool Henry. Of course it didn't. He had the heart of the truest believer, after all. "Did you help us fight?"

"Indeed I did, young sir," Cedric beamed. "I and a fair number of my companions. As you can see, we made absolutely sure there could be no executions today."

Cedric waved toward a pile of rubble that had once been the gallows. Henry visibly swallowed and then turned fearful eyes to Emma.

"D…do you think she really would have, you know, _killed_ us, mom?" he asked.

_Yes, in a heartbeat_.

"Don't worry about that, Henry," she grabbed Killian's hand. "There's no way we would have let that happen. Ever. Even wicked witches stand no chance up against angry moms."

Killian, squeezed her hand, and Henry looked at the two of them shrewdly.

"So…" he said, "I guess I was right, wasn't I, mom?"  
"What about, Kid."

"You know, when I told you that Hook really did love you."

"Smart lad," Killian grinned.

"Yeah, I guess you were. Did you also know I love him?"  
"Duh," Henry said with a roll of his eyes.

Emma grinned, and then sobered, taking Henry's hands and stooping down…not that far anymore…to be on eye level with him. "Are you alright with that, Henry? Really?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, I know you were hoping that your dad and I…"

He nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm okay with you and Hook," he said. "I talked to Dad while you guys were in Camelot, and he made me feel better about it."

"Neal made you feel better about me and Killian being in love?" Emma asked, rather startled by the thought.

"Yeah," Henry said. "He said he wanted you to be happy. Besides, I think he might like someone too."

"Really?" Emma asked curiously. "Who might that be?"

"Tink," Henry said.

"Lady Bell?" Killian asked, surprise coloring his voice.

"Yeah," Henry said in a conspiratorial whisper. "When we were together he talked about her _a lot_. And then once I came into the great hall, and I think they were about to _kiss_. They jumped apart real fast and Dad's face got all red."

"Aye," Killian said with a wink, "It does sound like he has all the symptoms. Say, lad, why don't you go find your father. He's been rather beside himself with worry for you."

Henry looked at the two of them suspiciously. "Are you just trying to get rid of me so you two can start _kissing_ again?" By the tone of the kid's voice, he found the prospect of kissing about as appealing as a plate full of Brussels sprouts—a vegetable he had resolutely refused to eat during their year in New York.

"Ah," Killian said, winking at her in the way that made the butterflies dance around in her stomach, "didn't I tell you he was a smart lad?"

"Ugh," Henry said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm going to find Dad before I start gagging."

Emma watched her son walk confidently away, and the anxiety slammed into her once again. Killian tilted her face up with a single finger under her chin.

"Don't worry love," he said gently, "we will find a way to save the boy. Between Regina, the Crocodile and your parents, we will find a way."

Emma stepped into his waiting embrace, needing the reassurance of his warm arms around her. "Will this always be our life, Killian? Constantly moving from one crisis to the next? Not even able to celebrate defeating one enemy before the next one shows up?"

"I have hope, Emma," he said, "I have hope that one day…hopefully one day soon…we'll get our happy ending, where all we need worry about is basking in the beauty of our love."

"That sounds amazing," she said on a sigh.

"And besides," she could hear the teasing smile in his voice this time, "didn't I promise you that after I won your heart the fun would begin? Since you've clearly fallen, desperately, head over heels in love with me, thanks to my dashing, debonair charm, I believe a little fun is in order."

She swatted his arm playfully, but couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped her lips. "You're so full of it!"

He laughed, caught one of her hands in his, and brought it to his lips. He sobered. "I can't promise you peace and tranquility love, but for right now, for this moment, there is much to celebrate."

She smiled, preparing to reply, when the shouting reached her.

"Emma!" Neal sounded panicked. She met his eyes, and her heart plummeted. Something was wrong. Something was _definitely _wrong.

"Well that was certainly a quick moment of celebration," she said sarcastically.

Killian put his arm around her shoulder, bracing her.

"Neal?" she asked when he reached her. "What's the matter?"

"It's Henry!" Neal said, pulling the boy before him. "Something's wrong. We were just talking and then…"  
"And then what?" she asked desperately.

"Look at his _arm_?" Neal said.

Emma obediently looked down and gasped. Henry's right arm had become pale, almost colorless. As she looked, his fingers gradually became completely invisible.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"It would appear the potion's wearing off, dearie," Rumplestiltskin said, stepping up. "He has mere minutes now, certainly no longer than an hour."

"Help him!" Emma cried. "Please, Gold! I'm begging you. Do something."

The sorcerer shook his head. "I'm afraid it's impossible, Miss Swan. The boy took the last of the potion, and it would take the better part of a year to create more."

"But we can't just let him go!" Emma shouted, beyond help, beyond reason in her panic. "He needs us! He needs his family!"

Regina stepped up, looking grave. "There might be something I can do."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Waves of pain crashed over Regina. She knew what she had to do, but she'd rather cut out her own heart than do it. She looked up, and her eyes met those of Robin Hood, the man who she had come to love more deeply than she could have ever imagined possible. How could she possibly do this?

"Well?" Emma asked, a bit shrilly. "What can you do to help?"

Regina closed her eyes and dropped her head for a moment, marshalling the meager stores of her strength. Then, squaring he shoulders she turned back toward the group.

"The curse," Regina said, and then cleared her throat against the tears threatening to drown her.

"The curse?" Emma asked skeptically. "Again? How many times can the damn thing be cast?"

"Technically," Regina answered, "it _can't_ be cast again, but I can…well…undo the undoing of it."

"That's impossible, dearie," Rumplestiltskin said. "You destroyed the curse back at the Storybrooke town line more than a year ago. It's gone"

"Yeah, well," Regina said with a shrug, "turns out it's not so 'destroyed' after all. The scroll on which the curse resided is still intact, albeit crumpled beyond recognition."

"So," Emma asked, "you can use this…crumpled scroll…to get us back to Storybrooke? How does that work?"

"Truthfully, Miss Swan?" Regina asked, "I'm not sure how well it _will _work. There's not much magic left in it. Enough to serve our purposes? I think so, but I can't be sure."

Regina looked up to find Hook's eyes on her.

"What must you do, love?" he asked gently.

The tears filled Regina's eyes. She quickly blinked them back. There would be plenty of time for grieving later. "I must destroy the scroll once and for all," she answered in a small voice. "When I do, everyone who was transported back here when I destroyed the curse will be sent back to Storybrooke—which will once again exist. _Only_ those affected by the curse will be able to return."

She looked up and once more met Robin's eyes. She saw the understanding…and the pain…dawn on his face.

"But…" Emma asked softly, "Henry and I weren't brought back here when you destroyed the curse."

"But you, Miss Swan, were supposed to," Regina answered. "You were only spared due to your status as the savior. As such, the undoing of the undoing of the curse will affect you as well. As for Henry, I believe his blood will save him."

"His _blood_?" Emma shrieked, "what do you mean his _blood_ will save him?"

"I'm not proposing to shed it!" Regina shouted. "What kind of a monster do you think I am."

Emma gave her _the look_—the one that said "you don't _really_ want me to answer that." Regina sighed.

"What I mean is that the blood of the savior runs through his veins," she answered. "His connection to you will keep him with you when the curse is undone."

"Where exactly might the partially destroyed scroll be, dearie?" Rumple asked.

Regina slipped her hand into her pocket, and grasped the slip of purple cloth. "After the debacle in Storybrooke when Pan stole the curse, I've kept the scroll on my person at all times."

"Great," Emma said firmly, putting her arm around Henry, "so let's get going."

Regina looked up, silently pleading. Hook met her eyes, understanding shining forth.

"As the Crocodile is so fond of reminding us," he said gently, "magic always comes with a price. What is it this time, love?"

Regina met Robin's eyes once more. "I…I must give up my chance at a happy ending."

There was silence.

"If you wouldn't mind," Regina said, her eyes pleading, "I'd like a moment…to say goodbye."

Emma nodded, tightening her hold on Henry.

Regina took Robin's hand and led him away from the group.

"I hardly know what to say," she began once they were alone. "There are so many things I want to say to you, but I don't know how to say them."

He smiled sadly, and cupped her cheek in his hand. "No matter, Regina," he said in a voice gravelly with emotion, "I can read it in your eyes."

The tears came again, and this time she didn't even try to prevent them spilling from her eyes, twin rivers of hot grief. Robin stooped and kissed the tears from her cheeks, then turning slightly, he met her lips. The kiss was slow, gentle, a giving and receiving of comfort. Regina tasted the salt of her tears on his lips, tears she feared she would never be able to stop. Her hand went to the back of his head, cradling him, holding him to her, wishing she would never have to let him go.

Eventually, Regina broke the kiss, knowing she only had minutes. Somehow she had to let him know what he had come to mean to her. Looking up she met his suspiciously wet eyes.

"Robin," she said, cleared her throat and began again. "Robin, you know who I am, who I've been. I let the anger and bitterness almost destroy every bit of good that was left in me. I became the evil queen in every sense of the word, and for that I know I must pay."

"Regina.."

"Please," she said holding up her hand, "let me finish."

"Very well."

"After everything I've done I didn't deserve even the possibility of a happy ending. When I came back here, I deserved nothing but the unrelenting misery of missing Henry. But that's not what I was given. I was given _you_. You and Roland. I've come to love him as deeply as I love my own son. The thought of leaving him…"

"He adores you as well," Robin said thickly. "You've become the mother he never had."

The tears were coming so fast now she could barely see.

"Those months we spent together in Friar Tuck's cottage," Regina sobbed, "were the happiest of my life. I let myself imagine it was real…that we were a family. In a perverse way, I was even _glad_ the witch had forced us into the position."

Robin took her hand and brought it gently to his lips.

"So," she said, "now that we're almost out of time, I have to tell you, at least once. Robin, I love you. I love you so deeply it scares me. The thought of leaving you…having no way to get back to you…it's nearly killing me."

She pulled her hand free and cupped his face in both of her hands. Bringing his face down, she luxuriated in one last long, slow kiss. How could she bear the thought of never seeing this man again? It was too much! Far, far too much.

When the kiss finally came to an end, Robin took her hand and laid it on his chest. She felt the beat of his heart, strong and steady.

"My love," he said, "do you feel that? Every beat belongs to you. This is a love so deep and true it can never end."

She nodded.

"One thing I've learned from Charming and Snow, from Hook and Emma," Robin said intensely, " is that true love never dies. It is patient, and it stands the test of time. It luxuriates in hope. _It never gives up._ Nor will I give up. I swear this to you on my very life. I will not stop until I find a way to get to you. You, Roland and I _will_ be reunited, and when we do, we shall make your imaginings a reality. We will be a family, a real family, in every sense of the word. Our separation will be nothing but a bad dream to put behind us. Can you trust me on this?"

A tiny shoot of hope sprung from her heart, a heart that had been barren for so many, many years.

"Yes," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "I don't know how, but somehow we will find each other again."

"I love you," he whispered against her hair.

"I love you too."

And then she pulled away. If she stayed in his arms one minute more she would never have the strength to leave them again. There was one last goodbye to be said, and she dreaded this one with every fiber of her being. She walked up to Roland, got to her knees before him, and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Regina," he asked in confusion, "what's the matter? Why are you crying?"

"I'm crying, sweetheart because I have to go away."

"Go away?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Where are you going? Can papa and I come with you?"

"I'm afraid not," she said, smoothing his brow. "You see, my son Henry needs my help, and the only way I can help him is by taking him to a land that you and your father can't come to."

She saw the tears come into his eyes then. "You're leaving us?" he asked in a tremulous voice. "For how long? When can you come home?"

The tears slipped from beneath her lashes once more. "I'm afraid there will be no way to come back, Roland."

"Ever?" he asked with a wail. "No! I love you! You can't leave!"

She wrapped him in another hug, felt his small body shaking with his sobs. "I wish I didn't have to go. I wish it with all my heart, but there's nothing I can do."

"No!" he sobbed.

Regina cried with the boy for a moment or two, and then forced herself to calm. Pulling slightly back from the embrace, she looked up into the bright, cloudless sky.

"Roland, do you see the sun up there?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered tearfully.

"That same sun shines in the land where I'm going," she said. "Every time you see the sun, know that I'm thinking of you. The heat from the sun's rays…that's the warmth of my love for you. As long as there is a sun in the sky, that's how long I will love you. Can you be a brave boy for me? Help your father?"

"Aye," he said with an earnest nod of the head.

"Good," she said with a kiss to his forehead. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Goodbye, mama," he answered.

She closed her eyes, got to her feet and walked back to the group. Snow reached out and clasped her arm, understanding in her eyes. Regina reached her other hand into her pocket and drew out the scroll. The last thing she saw as the purple smoke enfolded them was the little family she feared she would never see again.

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma closed her eyes as the purple smoke billowed from Regina's hands. Her heart beat quickly; she was so afraid this wouldn't work. What if something went wrong? What if Henry _couldn't _come back with them? What if they ended up in some other, inhospitable realm? What if the undoing of the undoing of the curse caused them all to lose their memories again? How could she stand the thought of forgetting Henry? Her parents? Killian?

Emma grabbed Killian's hand in one of hers, and Henry's in the other. She clung so tightly to Henry the kid would likely have a bruise when they got back, but she _needed_ the contact with him. She needed to be sure he stayed with her.

She felt nothing. No blast of wind, no sensation of the earth moving beneath her feet, no sensation at all. She kept her eyes resolutely closed until she heard the shout.

"Look!" Grumpy called. Why was he _always_ the herald? "We're back!"

Suddenly shouting, laughter, cheering erupted around her. Emma cautiously opened her eyes. They'd made it! There they all stood in the middle of Storybrooke's main road! They were all there—her parents, the dwarfs, Ruby and Granny, Neal and Tinker Bell, the other fairies, Belle and Gold, Archie, Regina, Killian and Henry.

"Mom!" Henry said joyfully, waving his right arm before his face. "Look! It worked. I'm not turning invisible anymore!"

She swooped down and nearly crushed him in a hug. It was over! It was truly all over. They'd defeated both the villains and made it back home whole and unharmed. Emma let go of a squirming Henry, only to find herself in Killian's arms.

"We did it love! We really did it!"

The kiss they shared was nothing short of explosive. Who knows how long it would have gone on…or how passionate it would have turned if her father hadn't stepped up and rather forcefully placed a hand on Killian's shoulder. The look on Charming's face was positively dangerous—while Killian, well he looked as though he would never stop smiling.

"Look, 'mate'," Charming said looking every bit the protective father. "I may have granted your request to court my daughter" _He had? And…Killian had requested to court her? _"but that doesn't mean I approve of such…inappropriate displays on the main street of town!"

Killian grinned wickedly. "Duly noted," he said. "I shall be sure to save said 'inappropriate displays' for side roads and dark alleys."

"Careful, pirate!" Charming growled.

Emma laughed, and launched herself into her father's arms. "Don't worry dad. I can manage him. I'll make him behave."

"You are welcome to try darling." The look on his face shouldn't be allowed. It really shouldn't.

It was like a big block party on the town square. Granny whipped up some food, someone bought music, before long people were dancing in the streets.

"I thought you guys missed the Enchanted Forest," Emma said to Ruby as she brought another round of drinks.

Ruby shrugged, somehow managing to leave the tray of beverages she held completely undisturbed. "We were, but…I don't know…it just wasn't the same."

"You mean like and evil witch and her monkey minions making life a living hell for everyone?" Emma asked with a quirk of the brow.

"Well that certainly didn't help," Ruby laughed, "but I also really missed the modern conveniences…like indoor plumbing, running water, modern medicine."

"Food that you don't have to kill and butcher yourself?"

"Exactly!"

Emma mingled throughout the crowd. Everyone was happy to see her. Everyone was happy, period. Everyone but Regina, that is. Emma saw her sitting off by herself, looking sightlessly over at the docks.

"Hey," Emma said, stepping up to her old nemesis, "mind if I sit down?"

Regina looked up, a sneer marring her features. "I don't own the bench, Miss Swan. I can't very well stop you sitting here."

Emma took a seat, resting her elbows on her thighs, steaming mug of coffee held in her hands. "Look Regina…"

Regina looked over at her then, the animosity flowing off her in waves. "Save it, Miss Swan. I'm really not in the mood for your crap."

"Regina, I know we've never exactly been friends," Emma said, "but can we stop with the constant hostility? For what it's worth, I didn't come over here to give you crap. I came over here to thank you."

"To thank me?" Regina looked truly dumbfounded.

"Yeah, to thank you. Look, I know how hard that must have been for you, leaving Robin and Roland, so for what it's worth, I just wanted to let you know that I appreciate what you did for us. Not just undoing the curse. All the stuff you did to help us defeat Morgana and the witch. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Thank you…Emma," Regina said with suspiciously moist eyes. "That means a lot to me. I guess I'm not always the easiest person to get along with, so….well, just thank you."

"No problem," Emma said getting up. She turned to head back to the group, and then abruptly turned back. "One more thing, Regina."

"What's that?"

"I've learned a thing or two about true love in the past couple of years," she said, "and one thing I know for sure is that when it's true love, you can never count it out. People who truly love each other tend to find each other even when it seems impossible. I don't know why I'm so sure, but I just have this feeling you and Robin will find each other again. And for what it's worth, in my job as a bail bonds person, tracking down hard to find people was kind of my specialty. After all you've done for my family, I'll do everything I can to help you get your happy ending. And I know my parents will do the same."

Regina opened her mouth, closed it abruptly, swallowed hard and then nodded. "Thank you, Emma. That means more than you'll ever know."

_Notes__:_

_-So the oq section was bittersweet at best. I will freely admit I cried when I writing the goodbye scene between Regina and Roland. From the beginning of this story, I intended Regina and Robin's love story to end up this way, but the more I wrote about them, the more I liked them. The more I liked them, the more I wanted to give them their happy ending NOW! I tried to write it that way. I really did, I promise, but that just wasn't the story. Do you ever find yourself writing a story and the characters flat out refuse to behave the way you want them to? There was no reason Morgana _had_ to destroy the Camelot well (and thus destroy the only remaining way to create a portal), but she just wouldn't do anything else! After that my course with outlaw queen was kind of set. A couple of things to keep in mind before you kill me :-) 1. Neither Regina nor Robin is dead. Neither of them are married or in love with other people, and they are well aware of the love they feel for each other. So…there is _hope_ (and we all know happy endings start with hope!). 2. Robin promised to never rest until he found a way back to Regina. Now there are some OUAT characters (one in particular that I can think of) who occasionally make big, sweeping declarations like that but never quite seem to follow through. When the going gets tough, they shrug their shoulders and say "I tried." I'm pretty fairly certain Robin is _not_ like that. He's more in the Killian Jones "I'll move heaven and earth and do whatever I need to to get back to her" mold. 3. As I've mentioned before, the most satisfying love stories are those in which the characters have to overcome A LOT before they get their happily ever after. Just think how epic it will be when Robin actually gets back to her? 4. At some point, I may have to write a sequel so that I can get Regina and Robin together. Just don't look for it any time soon. There are a lot of real world things I simply can't put off any longer, so when this is over I have to take a hiatus of my own. (Also, as I've destroyed pretty much every way to create a portal between realms, at the moment I'm at a loss how I will accomplish the reunion)._

_-Up next: A fluffy little epilogue in which Operation Captain Swan comes to its ultimate conclusion. (I've been looking forward to this chapter for weeks, guys!) :-)_


	33. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Storybrooke, Granny's Bed and Breakfast_

"Code red! Code red! Are you there Hook?" came Henry's voice from the little black box the lad had called a "walkie-talkie."

"I hear you loud and clear mate," Killian said, remembering to depress the little button that miraculously allowed Henry to hear him even from miles away.

"We need to meet," Henry frantically insisted. "It's an Operation CS emergency!"

Henry had gifted Killian with the walkie-talkie only days after their arrival in Storybrooke. He had insisted that the devices were the best way to keep in contact with regard to Operation Captain Swan. Killian had smiled to himself, more than willing to humor the boy. He genuinely liked Emma's son, and relished any excuse to spend time with him.

With regard to "Operation Captain Swan", Killian didn't believe it was necessary anymore. Truly, he had little doubt left where the lass was concerned. He and Emma had begun courting—she insisted they call it "dating"—right away, and things had progressed better than he had ever hoped. Truth be told, now, two months later, he had high hopes that Henry would become his step-son one day in the not-too-distant future.

"An emergency?" Killian asked sitting up a little straighter on his bed. "Has your mum been calling me 'Hook' again?"

The only time she called him Hook anymore was when she was mad at him—when he was "in the dog house," to quote a phrase Charming had taught him. Heaven knew the prince found himself in that state more often than not lately. Since the Lady Snow had discovered she was with child not long after the return to Storybrooke, her moods had been somewhat unpredictable. Hopefully the princess's emotional equilibrium would return soon or it might be a long nine months at the Charming domicile!

"Not yet," Henry answered, "but she might start soon, if you're not careful."

"What is the danger I run this time, lad? How do you propose we prevent your mum from reverting back to my moniker?"

"Well," Henry said, "it's Valentine's Day."

"Valentine's Day?" Killian asked in confusion. He'd heard the term spoken several times lately, but he had no clue to what it referred. "What's Valentine's Day?"

Henry let out a long, drawn out sigh. "That's what I was afraid of. We have a lot of work to do. Can you meet me for lunch today?"

"Today?" Killian asked, "on a Friday? Shouldn't you be in school lad?"

"Hook, haven't you been paying any attention to the weather? We got another snow day."

Ah yes, he had heard the weather forecasters going on and on for days about something called a "winter storm warning" they had issued for the Storybrooke area.

"In that case," Killian answered, "I'd love to dine with you, mate. Will your lovely mother be joining us."

"Hook," Henry said, drawing out the syllable, "that would kind of defeat the purpose of Operation CS, wouldn't it? This is supposed to be a _secret_ operation!"

"But of course, lad," Killian said gravely. "As always, mum's the word."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"Ah," Killian nodded, "so this 'Valentine's Day' is a day celebrating love."

"Yeah," Henry said, taking another sip of his hot chocolate. "And since it's the first Valentine's Day since you and Mom got together, it's a _big deal_. You have to make it special."

Killian grinned. The Land Without Magic celebrated a holiday in which he would be more or less required to make grand romantic gestures to show his Swan how much he loved her? He could truly come to love this new land. Aye, that he could.

"Well lad," Killian said leaning back in the booth at Granny's that he and Henry shared, "what is it that men in this land do to make Valentine's Day special for their sweethearts?"

"Flowers, chocolates, mushy greeting cards?" Henry said with a shrug. "How should I know? I'm only twelve. I just know guys are supposed to be all romantic."

Killian grinned again. "And how about you?" he teased. "Is there a young sweetheart in your life?"

The boy flushed to the very roots of his hair. Killian's grin grew.

"Well…" Henry said, looking away, "there is this one girl in my class. Her name is Grace, and, well, my stomach feels like it's all tied up in knots whenever she looks at me."

Killian nodded, trying his hardest to keep the grin in check. "Ah, that sounds serious, lad. Have you plans for wooing your lass this Valentine's Day?"

"No!" Henry nearly shouted, looking horrified. "If I did that I'd have to _tell_ _her I like her_!"

"Aye," Killian nodded again, "letting your feelings be known is generally the first step toward 'happily ever after'."

"But…." Henry sputtered, "but…Hook, we're not talking about _me_ here! This is about Operation Captain Swan!"

"Right you are, mate," Killian said, "as usual. We must complete this mission first, and then we shall turn our attention to your plight."

Killian sobered, suddenly feeling nervous. There was something he had been meaning to discuss with the lad, and there was no time like the present.

"Speaking of Operation Captain Swan, Henry," Killian began.

"Yeah?" Henry asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. Ask you, really."

"What's that?"

"You are well aware by now of my feelings for your mother. I love her so deeply I can't imagine a day apart from her. If I were to ever lose her, I don't think I could ever recover."

"This is what you had to tell me? Something I already knew?"

"Nay lad. That was just by way of introduction," Killian said, looking out the window and watching the snowflakes lazily drift to the ground. He took a deep breath and turned to meet Henry's eyes. "What I really wished to discuss, Henry, is the future. I know there will never in my life be another for me, and I think your mother feels the same about me. And lad, I've come to care for you as my own son. I would like nothing better than to make you and your mother a part of my family."

"You plan to propose to my mom?" Henry asked excitedly. "Really?"

"You're proposing to Emma?" Ruby asked nearly running over to the table. Killian felt his face flush. He'd really rather _not_ have the entire town aware of his plans before he'd even had a chance to talk to Emma.

"Aye," he said, a bit uncomfortably. "Sunday marks the three month anniversary of your mother regaining her memories in New York. I wish to commemorate the occasion with a betrothal. Would that be acceptable to you Henry."

Ruby gently shoved Henry over and took a seat on his side of the bench. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her hands, drinking in every detail of the conversation. It was only with the greatest difficulty that Killian avoided rolling his eyes.

"Would it be acceptable?" Henry grinned? "Hook that would be amazing! If you and mom got married, you'd be my step-dad! That'd be awesome!"

Killian's smile bloomed, wide and delighted. He reached over and ruffled the lad's hair. "It would be awesome indeed. Now perhaps you'd like to help me plan the proposal?"

"Yeah!" Henry said.

Killian looked pointedly at Ruby. The wolf-girl gave him a disgusted look.

"Hook," she said, "if you think there's any possibility of keeping me out of the loop now, you're crazy."

Killian really did roll his eyes this time. "Very well," he said on a sigh. "So how shall I go about this?"

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

Emma leaned over her desk at the sheriff's station and gently massaged her temples. The way this day was going, she was going to have a killer headache by the time she got off work later tonight. She shot a dirty look at the window. The snow was _still _coming down, hard and fast.

She _hated _snow. As a mild mannered accountant in New York, it had annoyed her. As the sheriff of a small town—the one who had to respond to every traffic accident and weather-related mishap—she despised the stuff! Already today she'd been called out to six fender-benders, and it was only 1:00 in the afternoon! What was the deal? Did the year back in the Enchanted Forest make _everyone _forget how to drive?

Emma flipped on the radio, hoping to distract herself. An almost criminally perky dj droned on and on about the wonderful things her amazing boyfriend had done for her today—Valentine's Day. Emma groaned and turned the radio back off. Valentine's Day. Another item on the list of things she'd never liked. True, she'd never before been with a man on Valentine's Day who cared enough about her to try to be romantic. Killian certainly did—and romance was practically his middle name—but being from the Enchanted Forest, did he even know about Valentine's Day?

As if summoned by her thoughts, a moment later her romantic pirate, himself walked through the door, big delighted grin in place.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, grinning in spite of herself.

"Aye, I am devilishly handsome, love," he said, stooping down to give her a quick peck on the lips. Since they'd begun dating, the man had rarely done more than give her quick, chaste kisses, and it was driving her _crazy_. She suspected her father had more than a little to do with it—protecting his daughter's virtue, and all of that. She relished the feeling of being cared for, but jeez! She was a thirty year old woman, for heaven sake! She could make her own decisions with regard to the man she was dating; she didn't need her _father's_ help!

"So what's up?" Emma asked, swiveling in her chair so she better faced Killian who was leaning casually against her desk.

"A little bird by the name of Henry informed me that today is an important day," Killian said with a grin.

"Oh he did, did he?" Emma asked, smiling back.

"Aye," Killian said, pulling his hands (both real and prosthetic) from behind his back and presenting her with a battered box of chocolates and a bouquet of assorted flowers that looked decidedly worse for the wear. Emma accepted the gifts, but couldn't hold back her chuckle.

"A bit, pathetic, these, aye?" Killian said with a rueful grimace. "It turns out that if one wishes to present his true love with gifts on Valentine's Day, he needs to purchase them ahead of time…or he'll end up with few choices."

Emma set the offerings on the desk and got to her feet, wrapping her arms around him. "I love them."

He hugged her back, holding her in his arms for long moments. Finally he spoke against her hair. "Emma," he murmured, "With every passing day my love for you grows. You're more necessary to me than water or air."

She felt the tears spring to her eyes. He was always doing this—making grand romantic statements that were so beautiful they brought her to tears, and it drove her nuts. Who was she kidding, she _loved_ it!

"Killian," she said, pulling away and surreptitiously wiping at her eyes, "I love you too."

She reached for an envelope sitting on her desk. "I couldn't figure out what to give you for Valentine's Day," she said, almost shyly holding out the envelope to him. "After all, what do you get a pirate? So I decided to…well…write you a letter. I know I'm not…good with words like you are, but I wanted to let you know what you mean to me, how I feel about you."

His eyes showed just how much her letter meant to him. Never breaking eye contact, he put the missive in his shirt, next to his heart.

The love, the wonder of the fact that she was dating this man washed over her again, and she launched herself into his arms. Well, if he wouldn't take the initiative to kiss her properly, she would have to take it herself. As their lips met, he moaned deep in his throat and crushed her to him. Her lips parted to welcome him, and he enthusiastically accepted the invitation. It had been nearly two months since they'd really kissed, and the pent up passion in this embrace had her heart slamming so violently against her chest, she feared she would suffer broken ribs.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something," Charming said from the doorway. It was abundantly clear he was happy to cause the interruption.

"Charming," Killian said, stepping away, but still keeping an arm around her, "you are my best mate, but sometimes your timing is abysmal."

"Oh, I don't know," her dad said, shedding his coat and hanging it neatly in the closet. "From my perspective my timing was just about right."

_+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+_

"So, what do you think?" Emma did a quick pirouette as she emerged from the loft and stood before her parents two days later.

Snow shook her head. "No, no, no," she said, taking Emma's arm and propelling her back up the stairs. "That won't work at all. Hook requested you dress up. That skirt is nothing short of casual."

Emma looked down at her blue, turtle necked sweater and black skirt. It seemed nice enough to her. "We're just meeting at Granny's," she said. "How formal can it be?"

"Trust me," Snow said with a small, secret smile, "you're going to want to be dressed for the occasion."

Something was going on. Something was definitely going on. Ever since Valentine's Day when Killian had taken Charming aside for a private conversation of some sort, her dad had been acting strange. He'd gotten this wistful, almost misty-eyed look about him whenever he looked at her. And then Henry and Snow had been grinning at her like loons nearly non-stop. She'd asked…repeatedly…what was going on, but no one would tell her. She did _not_ like to be out of the loop.

"Alright, fine, mom," Emma said once they reached her bedroom. "So what do you propose I wear?"

Snow rummaged around in Emma's closet for a minute and then emerged with the form-fitting red sheath dress she'd last worn on her twenty-eighth birthday—on her "date" with the scum of the earth she was currently tracking down.

"Really?" Emma asked. "You don't think that's a little too…"

"It'll be perfect," Snow gushed. "He'll _love_ it!"

And so, Emma had changed and accepted her mother's help with hair and make-up. She wore her hair down in soft curls, the sides swept up with ruby hair clips. Snow had tried to convince her to wear matching shoes, but they had been just a step too close to "ruby slippers" for Emma's comfort. After all they'd gone through with the Wicked Witch of the West, she'd stick with her black heels, thank you very much!

This time, when the two women emerged from the loft, Emma got an enthusiastic thumbs up from Henry, and an emotional hug from her father. Good grief, the man was an emotional basket case! You'd think _he_ was the one dealing with pregnancy hormones rather than his wife!

Emma shook her head as she walked out of the apartment and down the street to Granny's. What was with her family lately? Henry had wished her good luck as she headed out the door. _Good luck_? What was that supposed to mean?

The first thing Emma noticed when she opened the door to Granny's were the rose petals that were delicately spread on the floor, making a fragrant path to the table in the center of the dining room. The diner was completely empty but for Killian standing beside the table, resplendent in his normal pirate attire and red vest.

"What's all this?" Emma asked, taking in the delicate lace table cloth, the fine china, the candles providing the only light for the room.

"Well, lass," Killian said helping her off with her coat and draping it over one of the unused booths, "today marks an anniversary of sorts."

"An anniversary?" she asked, feeling the need to fan herself. The heat in his eyes when he saw her dress had surly raised the temperature in the room by at least twenty degrees! "What's the occasion?"

Killian pulled out one of the chairs and seated her, trailing his hand over her bare shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. "Three months ago today you regained your memories in New York, and for the first time in a year, the ache in my heart eased. You were back; the love of my life was back."

Emma smiled. "I'll never forget that day."

"Nor I," Killian was holding a long, thin box out to her. She took it automatically and opened it to find a diamond and ruby necklace.

"It's beautiful," Emma said in a hushed voice.

"Aye," he answered taking the necklace from its box and fumbling clumsily with the clasp as he draped it around her neck. "When your mum told me you would be wearing a red dress, I knew it was the perfect ornament for you."

"It looks like an antique; where'd you get it?" Emma asked breathlessly. As soon as he had closed the clasp, he'd leaned forward and placed a trail of hot kisses down her collarbone. It was getting difficult to think straight.

"A pirate has no end of access to treasures, love."

That got her attention. "Are you telling me you are giving the _sheriff_ stolen goods?"

He smiled wickedly as he sat in his seat across from her. "What a suspicious mind you have, love," he teased. "As it turns out, I obtained this trinket honestly. I happened to find and purchase it at the Crocodile's shop."

"It must be love if you'd be willing to consort with 'the Crocodile' to buy me jewelry!" she teased back.

"Aye," he said with a grin.

"So, what's…" her sentence was interrupted when Ruby, dressed in a shockingly modest black dress stepped up to the table with a bottle of red wine.

"Good evening," the waitress said formally, "My name is Ruby, and I will be your server for the evening. Please, don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."

"Uh," Emma said, "thanks Ruby."

The doors to the backroom swung open once more, and Gepetto, dressed in a tuxedo, stepped through carrying a violin. He took up a position near the back of the dining room and began playing a soft tune.

"Well," Emma said, "you certainly went to a lot of trouble for a simple 'it's been three months since you got your memories back' dinner."

The grin slid from Killian's face and was replaced with a look of particular intensity. He reached across the table with his good hand and clasped her hand in his.

"The truth be told, Emma," he said in a gravelly voice, "the commemoration of the anniversary was only a part of the reason I asked you to meet me here tonight."

Emma took a sip of her wine, wondering about the odd mood that seemed to have come over Killian. "What were your other reasons?"

He brought her hand to his lips, and then met her eyes. "I've lived a long and difficult life, Emma," he said. "I've lost every single person I ever loved and spent more than three centuries giving in to the darkest impulses within my nature. When Milah was ripped away from me, I thought my heart had died with her. I no longer cared whether I lived or died, so long as I managed to skin the Crocodile. His death was the mission of my life. I neither wished for nor deserved anything better. And then I met you."

Emma pressed his hand still held within her own.

"Despite the villain I had become. Despite the evil I still planned, I was sent an angel, a beautiful avenging angel with hair the color of spun gold." He dropped her hand and reached to finger a curl that had fallen over her shoulder.

"From the moment I saw you, love, I knew my life had changed forever. You made me long to be a better man, to be a man worthy of you. I didn't realize how utterly lost I was until our journey to Neverland. When you jumped overboard and we feared you'd drowned…my panic went beyond all reason. When you finally took a breath, I felt like a condemned man given back his life. And then when you kissed me, it was like a veil had lifted. Suddenly I knew. I knew I loved you more ardently than I'd ever loved anyone, even Milah. I knew I would never love another woman the way I love you."

Emma was openly crying by this point, dabbing delicately at her eyes with a tissue, mentally blessing Snow for insisting she wear water-proof mascara.

Killian got to his feet and walked around the table until he was standing next to her. Gracefully, he went down on one knee and took her left hand within his right. _Was he about to…?_

"I love you to the very depth of my heart, lass," he said, his voice breaking slightly.

"I love you too," she whispered.

He smiled and caressed her had with his thumb. "Aye, I know that as well."

"Killian, I…"

"Now, lass," he said with a teasing grin "don't interrupt. I've put a good deal of thought into sweeping you off your feet."

She grinned. "Okay," she said, "proceed."

"I enlisted the aid of the Crocodile's lady to help me find a quote appropriate to the occasion."

"And what did she come up with?" Emma asked.

"' Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt thou the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar but never doubt my love.' Penned by a man named Shakespeare, said to be quite famous in your realm."

"Yeah. Can't say I ever understood anything he wrote before," Emma said, beginning to cry once again. "That was beautiful."

"And apt," Killian said, sobering once again. "Emma, lass, my love for you will never end. I will never leave you. I will never put another person before you. I will spend whatever years are left to me, laboring to make you happy. I can no long imagine spending a day without you."

He gently pulled his hand from hers and pulled a small box from the pocket of his trousers. He opened it to reveal a very old diamond ring.

"And so, love," he said, tears beginning to shine in his eyes, "I ask you to give me the great joy, the great honor of becoming my wife."

Emma surged from her chair and came to kneel before him. She fell into his waiting arms. "Yes!" she whispered, too overcome to say any more.

"Aye?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"Aye," she answered smiling through her tears. He took her into his arms and swung her around, laughing in utter delight.

The back room door opened again, and Henry emerged, a huge grin spreading from ear to ear. "Now you kiss her, Hook!" he said in a carrying stage whisper

"Thanks lad," Killian said with a grin, "but I think I can take it from here."

And he went on to do just that, very thoroughly.

THE END!

_Notes:_

_-Well, there you have it. After around two months and 33 chapters this long story has finally come to a close. This chapter was, once again, partially inspired by real life weather events. Here in the Midwest we are gearing up for the 537,000__th__ major winter storm of the season. Ok, that might have been a _slight_ exaggeration, but it really doesn't feel like much of one. As a result, I decided to give Henry another snow day._

_-I hope this chapter wasn't too sappy for you. After the rather sad oq story in the last chapter, I felt the need for fluff and romance…and a happy ending!_

_-A note on the engagement ring. I couldn't fit this little tidbit into the story without breaking the flow of events, but the ring Killian gave Emma was his mother's ring. Just before they all left Camelot, his father, Sir Gawain, gave him the ring, insisting his mother would have wanted him to have it._

_-The Shakespeare quote Killian used in the proposal scene was taken from Act II, Scene II of Hamlet. I have to give credit to the very talented eight 0f hearts for mentioning the quote in a pm she wrote me in response to one of my reviews of her story. By the way, if you haven't already, you should definitely check out her story "Hamlet and the Pirates."_

_-_ _Nouqueret, I still really like your idea of adding a "teaser" to the sequel at the end of the "credits," but unfortunately, my muse has left me for the moment (no doubt trying to get out of town before the snow starts flying _yet again_). I'm sure I will get lots of inspiration once the show comes back on, but for now, I'm at a loss as to how I will get Robin and Regina back together. One day I will write a sequel, but at the moment, I couldn't tell you when._

_-Finally, I'd like to thank everyone who's read, followed, favorited, and reviewed my story. All of your comments and feedback have been greatly appreciated! You've really inspired me throughout the whole writing process!_

_-Only 9 more days!_


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